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minkieater · 28 days ago

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EIGHT FIRST DATES ꨄ︎

001 》 HWANG HYUNJIN

your first time on tinder ends in... success? with thanksgiving only eight weeks away, you're hell bent on getting a boyfriend before then to show off to your family. with your first and only option being a dating app, you've scored a beau within hours. will he be the one you show up with thanksgiving day?

➤ see hyunjin's tinder profile here !

smut! mdni! oral r, lots of praise, lil bit of a breeding kink (protected sex tho!) wc ~10k

“yeah, but tinder? really?” your twin stood in front of you, eyebrows twinged in disgust, hands clutching his phone in front of him, thumbs hovering over his screen.

“what other choice do i have? i have eight weeks to get a boyfriend. the clock is fucking ticking,” you threw your hands in the air, stopping your pacing back and forth in your brother’s cluttered bedroom.

“i don’t understand why you let them get to you, bro,” he shook his head, climbing onto his bed, a shirt falling to the floor from the movement. “who cares if you don’t have a boyfriend? just be single, it’s better that way.”

“you literally have a girlfriend, ace,” you crossed your arms, fighting every instinct to not pick up the shirt that had fallen. “you can’t say shit like that when they don’t bother you. mom, matt and even vi started getting on my case about it.”

ace sighed, throwing his head back. “you don’t know anyone? not a single man who’d take you on a date?” he picked his head up to look at you with eyebrows raised, then continued when you gave him a swift shake of your head. “what about yeosang? yunho, san?”

you don’t think your face could look more horrified, “that’s fucking disgusting. we’ve all been best friends since we were basically born, they’re like another you.”

“they sound like three options to me,” he shrugged, then put his legs under his comforter that was scrunched up on the side of his bed, “can you close my door on your way out?”

you made a sound of frustration, somewhere between a grunt and a whine as you left his room, right after throwing the shirt in his annoyingly full hamper and closing the door behind you. you went back to your own bedroom, the complete opposite of his, bed made with four different pillows for show, not a single article of clothing on the floor. the cleanliness made you smile, you even felt cleaner after leaving his room, you immediately hopped onto your bed and opened tinder.

SOOBIN, 23 if u like jjk chainsaw man or solo leveling PLS hmu

JEONGHAN, 29 recruiting new members for my cult

HYUNJIN, 24 swipe right if you like art & wine

INTAK, 21 5’11 since it matters

“jesus,” you said under your breath, you didn’t know if it was because you just signed up for the app and it showed you who everyone was swiping on, or if everyone around you was really just that gorgeous. everyone got a swipe right, and almost everyone afterward until the app notified you that you ran out of likes.

“ran out?!” you yelled at your phone, eyebrows furrowed. you threw your phone on the bed beside you, the back of your head falling into the pillow with a loud huff.

then your phone pinged with a notification.

you picked it up at the speed of light, eyes widening at the little fire icon on your notification screen. you opened the app quickly, checking your matches.

intak: hey ;)

you bit your lip, a smile growing on your face. your first match!

you: heyyy :)))

intak: wsp

you: nothing muchhhh just laying in bed wbu!!

intak: bored :/ intak: u send pics?

you immediately frowned, the adrenaline that was just coursing through you depleted within seconds, your heartbeat already slowing. this was why you didn’t have a boyfriend, why you didn’t date, why you never have.

you quickly unmatched him, throwing your phone beside you again. maybe your twin was right, maybe downloading tinder really was stupid — it’s an app used primarily for hookups, and that’s not what you were interested in. you were looking for someone to show off to your ridiculously large family. to your cousins who have always belittled you for staying single, to your grandma who wants you to be with someone she approves of, to your little fucking sister who called you lame for never having a boyfriend.

you were sick of it. you wanted a partner better than the ones your cousins have, one that would make your grandma give you the ring that still sat on her finger, one that would hangout with your little sister. one that would make your father proud, would make him smile down at you, one that he’d feel ecstatic about you walking down the aisle toward— even if he couldn’t be here to walk you to him.

your phone pinged again.

you picked it up with lowered expectations, clicking on the fire icon again.

hyunjin: hey gorgeous :)

you looked through his profile again before answering. he had seven pictures up on his profile, every single one of them filling you with more curiosity. he had a few photos up with art you can only assume he made, a mirror selfie, two pictures taken of him, and a picture with another gorgeous man. you couldn’t believe he was on tinder — he’s perfect.

you: hey handsome :)

hyunjin: are u a twin?

you: i do happen to be a twin !

hyunjin: thats sick. are u guys identical? u look identical hyunjin: yall have telepathy or whatever?

you: we are not!!! we get that a lot lol you: tbh no you: god must save that for the identical twins💔

hyunjin: are u sure ur not identical hyunjin: u guys look exactly the same hyunjin: how are u twins and u dont have telepathy

you perched an eyebrow, fingers typing faster.

you: yes i am sure??? you: are you a twin???

hyunjin: no

you: right you: ill be sure to let him know we need to try harder to be telepathic

hyunjin: i think telepathy is really beautiful, the whole concept of twins actually. hyunjin: sharing the same DNA??? being essentially the same person split into two bodies, sharing things that no one else will understand just bc of how you were born. its really poetic

you: well were fraternal so we don't share all of our dna just 50% like any other sibling you: we could not be farther from the same person lol but yeah the concept of twins is rlly cool

hyunjin: anyways enough about that hyunjin: do u like art?

you let out a small chuckle— the conversation almost didn’t seem real. you went from one man asking about nudes to another asking you about your genetic makeup, then he asks if you like art? you couldn’t believe the face attached to these messages.

you: yeah i fuck with paintings you: i see you are an artist you: i like what's on your profile !!

hyunjin: thank you :) hyunjin: would u want to go out this saturday? an exhibit opened up downtown, we could go to dinner after? it’s wine night at the bar across the street from the exhibit

the adrenaline that escaped you earlier shot back through your body like lightning, you looked through his profile again. he’s so gorgeous, it seemed too easy — is he a catfish? there’s no way he’s just walking around single with a face like that, and he wants you?

an art exhibit, wine afterwards, it seemed so sophisticated. definitely what you were looking for.

you: yeah id love to! you: send me ur number we can talk details (:

for the days to follow, you and hyunjin had been texting constantly. goodmorning, goodnight, what you’re eating throughout the day, random thoughts you’re having, even deep talks that go as long as one to two in the morning. day by day he was tweaking your mindset bit by bit — every morning you woke up with the same thought, maybe dating isn’t so bad.

three days of a honeymoon phase did not go unnoticed by your family, or your friends.

“what’s got you in such a good mood, tiny?” your mom asked, mixing her coffee with a silver spoon at the glass kitchen table, one leg crossed over the other. you should be used to the nickname by now but it still makes you cringe — twenty two and still called tiny by your entire family.

you didn’t even realize you basically skipped down to the kitchen, pouring a cup of coffee for yourself while humming a song hyunjin had sent you last night. you whipped your head around to her, a smile on your face, “it’s saturday.”

her look was unbelieving, she knows you better than that. “you’re never this happy this early.”

“she has a date tonight,” your twin says through a yawn, walking through the kitchen, arms stretching above his head. “with a tinder boy.”

“ace!” you gasp, smacking his arm. you spoke under your breath, “why would you say that?”

“what’s a tinder?” your mom asked from the table, looking at you both with furrowed eyebrows.

you opened your mouth to speak but ace cut you off, “a hookup app.”

your mom gasped, eyes widening, “tiny!”

“it’s not just a hookup app,” san follows ace into the kitchen, black tee sitting tight against his skin, his arms flexing through the fabric — he was always your favorite.

“it basically is, every girl i’ve met on there i’ve hit,” the smirk is clear on ace’s face as he looks to san, who daps him up with a chuckle. san mutters a nice under his breath — immediately demoted from your favorite.

“that’s because you’re gross. we’re going to an art gallery and going to the bar across the street for wine night after,” you smiled, a proud look on your face as you turned to your mom. she didn’t share the glance.

“with who?” your step dad, matt, enters the kitchen from the living room, a mug of coffee in his own hands. “doesn’t sound like something the boys would do willingly on their saturday night.”

“great, let’s just make my date a family discussion, thanks ace,” you rolled your eyes, walking to the fridge to grab your bottle of oat milk.

“a date? you don’t go on dates, tiny,” matt asks from the opposite side of the kitchen, hands on his hips, his coffee mug on the counter next to him.

“i do now,” you huff while pouring the oat milk into your coffee. “don’t ask any more questions, i’m going. end of story.”

matt pulls his lips into a thin line, “not sure i like the sound of this.”

“she’ll be fine,” ace counters as he walks to your side, the gallon of whole milk he just took from the fridge in his hands. “if she needs anything she has at least four different people she can call, one of us being six foot two.”

“exactly,” you nod, mentally thanking ace for backing you up. he looks to you with a tight lipped smile and a hand on your shoulder, his way of saying you’re welcome. maybe you do have a little bit of telepathy, you’d have to tell hyunjin.

getting ready was hard — you looked at hyunjin’s profile on tinder at least six different times before settling on an outfit. in one of his pictures he had on two tank tops, one fitted and one loose with a graphic covering the space, a beanie on his head, a pair of denim shorts and loafers. he was definitely into fashion, if anyone else had tried to wear that same outfit they’d look insane, but he pulled it off with ease.

in another he wore black denim jeans, a fitted black quarter zip sweater that covered half his hands. he had his hair tied up and big glasses on his face —- such a simple outfit curated in a way that made him look so expensive. you just knew he’d show up in something immaculate, you had big shoes to fill to match his vibe, but you’d do it. you wanted to impress him, you needed a boyfriend out of this, after all.

the one thing you had in your possession, the only thing that looked nearly as expensive as him was a long coat that was your mother’s. it took ten minutes of begging but she let you borrow it for the night, your only issue was basing the rest of your outfit around the coat. jeans didn’t look dressy enough, dress pants didn’t look girlfriend enough. you settled on a mini skirt with a pair of tights underneath, you had a pair of knee high boots and a sweater that pulled everything together. the coat fit you perfectly and hit almost the height of your boots, it was the perfect length. you spent at least an hour on your hair, another hour on your makeup, by the time you were finished getting ready you felt like you had really pulled the expensive look off.

“it isn’t ten degrees outside, you know,” ace said as he sat too casually on your bed, your shared three best friends accompanied him on the white sheets.

“i look expensive, do i not?” you played with your hair as you stood in front of your full length mirror, shooting daggers at your twin through the reflection.

“you look like you're in your mom’s coat,” yeosang said from his spot on the bed, peeking his head around san’s shoulder.

you scoffed as you turned around, “all you guys do is insult me, how am i supposed to feel any ounce of confidence before my big date?”

“i think you look great, tiny,” yunho turned his head to look at you from his spot on your bed, his massive frame taking up half the mattress. with his head laid on your pillows, his feet still dangled off the edge of your queen sized bed.

“thank you,” you smiled to yunho, the only one who understood what a girl needs to hear before a date.

your parents were close friends with the parents of the three boys on your bed, the lot of them have been a friend group since before you were born. you and your twin had no choice but to be friends with them growing up, forming your own friend group with the three boys that never disbanded, only grew closer despite your age differences. you always assumed you’d be close with them forever, that’s just how it was, how it’d always be.

they were great friends most of the time, ace wasn’t kidding when he said you had four people you could call in any situation, any emergency, they’d always pick up. they were as much as your brothers as ace is, you considered all three of them like family.

“i think you look great too, you gonna fuck him?” san perched an eyebrow, wiggling them with a mischievous smile as you made a face at him.

“i am not a fuck on the first date kind of girl,” you shrugged, walking over to your vanity to check your makeup again. you grabbed your tube of lip gloss as you sat down, uncapping it to swipe over your already glossed lips.

“how do you know?” yeosang giggled from the bed, “closest thing you’ve ever had to a date was prom, and you went with me.”

“that’s actually true,” you shrugged after applying the gloss, “maybe i might. who knows?”

“i hope you do, god knows you need it teens,” ace mumbles from the bed, his phone in his hands again – probably texting his girlfriend, reia. the pair had been together for six months, your twin’s longest relationship yet. you hadn’t had many chances to hangout with her, but from the times you have she seemed pretty cool, probably too good for your brother.

“i feel like maybe you shouldn’t be the one to say that to me,” your lips pulled into a line as you turned into your chair to face the group. “anyways, who’s driving me? the exhibit is downtown, like twenty minutes away.”

“yun’s the only one who has his car, unless you want one of us to drive your car,” san offered, and the other two boys immediately looked to yunho.

“guess i’m taking you,” yunho said, sitting up on the mattress, no trace of malcontent on his face. “you ready to go now?”

you nodded with a smile, hopping up from the wooden chair. your parents didn’t ask many questions before you left, just telling you to be safe and don’t do anything they wouldn’t do. knowing their background there wasn’t much they wouldn’t do, your mom’s college stories haunt you to this day.

the smiths played through the speakers of yunho’s car on the drive there, softer rock music instead of the usual heavier music he listens to. you brushed it off to the rain that dripped down the windows of the car, the vibe outside not much for heavy rock music with a loud, thumping bass, the emotional and almost melancholic vibe to steven patrick morrissey’s voice was a perfect match.

“i’m happy one of us is taking you,” yunho finally spoke, the music quiet enough for you to hear him clearly. he looked over at you and smiled, the fingers on his right hand still wrapped around his steering wheel. “i don’t have to go over the whole call me if you need anything spiel, right?”

you laughed, “no, i know already, ace said it to matt this morning. i have four people i can call, blah blah blah.”

“i’ll leave my ringer on, so call me, don’t even bother with ace,” he shook his head, shifting his eyes back on the road in front of him – you missed the way his fingers gripped the steering wheel a little harder. “anything could happen, you don’t even really know this guy.”

“i know too much about this guy after only texting him for three days, trust me,” you laughed, “everything will be fine, i’m just looking at some paintings and having a glass of wine.”

“alright,” was all he replied, keeping his gaze on the road. yunho had never been one for many words, he was the one out of the three that you knew the least about. he kept his secrets close to him, was intentional when he spoke, only said what needed to be said always, yet he was still somehow the one you felt the most driven toward whenever you hung out. maybe it was because you knew way too much about the others, it left a certain curiosity about yunho.

you looked down at your phone, a new text from hyunjin from one minute ago was the only thing on your notifications screen.

hyunjin: just got here! i’ll wait for you inside the lobby :)

you: i’m pulling up now !

yunho pulled over in front of the gallery, looking toward you with another tight lipped smile. “have fun, be careful, please call me if you need anything.”

“gosh, i will, jeez,” you smiled, all teeth, then unbuckled yourself. “thank you for the ride, i’ll see you later if you’re still at the house, gonna hopefully bum a ride home from hyunjin.”

“i can pick you up, too,” he adds, and you roll your eyes. you open the door, sliding out of the car onto the slick sidewalk.

“jesus, yunho, if you wanted to see me that bad you should’ve just taken me to the damn art gallery,” you teased, resting your hand on the top of the car door.

his smile is wide as he teases, “your grandma fucking adores me, tiny.”

“goodbye, yunho!” you called as you shut the car door, a smile on your face as you began your walk up to the building that held the exhibit.

within a second of being by yourself, reality seemed to hit you fast. just behind the tall, dark doors, stood a gorgeous man who was meeting you – taking you on a date, to an art exhibit at that. it all felt so sophisticated, so mature, maybe this would be easier than you thought. who knew tinder would produce such a well thought out date?

as you pushed open the door to the exhibit, you were greeted with a fucking museum. cream walls, pillars, the whole thing – you were grateful you dressed the way you did. your eyes scanned the people in the lobby, searching for mister tall, dark and handsome himself.

as your eyes finally laid on him, you were really grateful you dressed the way you did. his hair was down, curly and messy yet still put together, a matching corduroy set of pants and a jacket, a black tee underneath. necklaces sat around his neck, laid across his chest, bracelets on his wrist and rings on his fingers – he made such a simple outfit extravagant, he looked like he had a personal stylist, someone to dress him with clothes that were tailored just for him.

as you walked towards him, you felt your body locking up, the excitement you felt moments prior transformed to straight nerves. your eyes raked over his build, lean yet muscular, his jaw perfectly chiseled, as his eyes met yours it nearly took your breath away. he smiled, so wide you couldn’t help but return it, he was even more gorgeous than his pictures – in person, hwang hyunjin was fucking breathtaking.

“hey beautiful,” he smiled as you finally approached him, wrapping an arm around you in a quick squeeze. “happy to finally see your pretty face in person.”

“i could say the same thing to you,” you laugh, it comes out nervous, your breath unsteady. “what’s the opposite of a catfish?”

he threw his head back in a laugh, “you flatter me,” he waved his hand side to side, his smile so fucking contagious. instead of deflating, your nerves flare up worse, remembering that this isn’t just a first date with a beautiful man, this is your first date ever. dates didn’t come with an instruction manual, you didn’t know how to act, what to say, what to do. you don’t even like art like that!

he cut off your thoughts, “you ready to go in? i already got us tickets.” the way he looked at you was so inviting, his chocolate eyes so warm it made you dizzy. you nodded with a smile and he led the way, the man working the door offering a hey hyunjin as you walked into the exhibit. you lifted a brow, but thought nothing of it as he grabbed your hand, leading you to the first piece.

his hand completely swallowed yours – veiny hands, long fingers that were covered in silver and nails painted black, you couldn’t take your eyes off of them until he spoke again, letting go of your hand.

“a replica, an ode to josep llimona,” hyunjin stands close to you, nodding toward the sculpture in front of him, then looks down to you. “do you know desolation?”

you shake your head once and he continues, “it’s a sculpture, made in 1907 that’s in the museum of catalonia in barcelona. what do you see when you look at it?”

you look at the sculpture, your head tilting to one side. it was a naked woman leaning onto something like a rock, her fingers intertwined, her face hidden by her hair. she looked distraught, like something terrible had just happened, as if she was suffering or mourning.

“i see a woman in despair,” your words are quiet and he smiles, a wide grin showing all of his teeth. you frown, “it’s sad, i want to help her.”

“in the early 1900s there was a bunch of different pieces of art made for temples, this piece was a part of that group, well, a replica of the piece,” he tucks a piece of hair behind his ear, eyes trained on the sculpture before you. his passion was raw as he spoke, “within the group, artists made sculptures of women that had feelings like grief, despair and resignation. the whole idea behind it was capturing feelings instead of beauty.”

“but she is beautiful,” your eyebrows furrowed together, bringing your eyes back to the sculpture before you. you frowned again.

“notice how you can’t see her face?” he leans in closer to you, “her hair is covering it, but you can still tell she’s sad.”

your mouth forms a small o as you turn your head, looking up to him, “oh, shit— you’re right!”

“you’re adorable,” he smiles down at you, “do you know much about art?”

“a little…” your cheeks warm and you look away from him, a sleeve covered hand coming up to mask your blush when your faces had come closer than intended. “basically just what i was taught in high school.”

he lets out a small chuckle, “sorry to go all art nerd on you, then. i did a whole project on desolation last year.”

“no, no, don’t apologize,” you shake your head, “it’s really attractive, actually.”

he smiles again, a pink hue to his cheeks. “good to know.”

he moves to the next piece, long corduroy covered legs pulling you along as if he was tugging on a leash, you were whipped already. tall, gorgeous, respectful and smart, he seemed like the entire package. “ah, this one really speaks to me,” he says as he comes to a stop, squinting at the painting in front of him, crossing his arms over his chest.

“yeah?” you ask, a small smile on your face as you watch him, then look at the painting in front of you. it looked like… a bunch of colors. green, a reddish line in the center, then a deep blue underneath.

it simply seemed like a bunch of colors painted on a canvas, your eyebrows furrowed. “i’m gonna need you to go art nerd on me again, i think.”

he smiles, “this is number two, blue red and green, by mark rothko. it was made in 1958, oil on canvas— do you want the whole backstory or just a little summary?”

“whatever you want to tell me, i’ll listen,” you nod, shifting your weight to one foot, looking up to him as he spoke. his whole face lit up, he had stars in his eyes, you could tell he loved it here, loved art in general.

you loved listening to people speak about what they love, the passion that flows through their words, how they tend to overshare the little details that they find just as important as the big ones. as hyunjin spoke about the green red and blue painting you accidentally tuned him out, eyes focused on his own, his long eyelashes, how the lighting in the building made him look like he belonged to the exhibit.

exquisite, a masterpiece of his own, the way his tongue would sneak out of his mouth to swipe across his bottom lip, how his lips would part just enough to get a peek of the perfect set of teeth that lived inside. you gave him small nods as he spoke, not hearing a word of it, brain whirling about symmetrical his face is.

“it’s basically all about personal translation, how colors can evoke different emotions in people,” he nods, looking back at the painting, “it’s all about the viewer, how it’s interpreted.”

you looked back to the piece. you may have missed his monologue about the guy and the meaning but the art still looked like a bunch of colors to you — your head tilted again, your lips forming a pout. you wished you saw it how he did.

“not feeling this one, hm?” your head snaps back to look up at him, your eyes widening. he must have seen the look on your face.

“no, i love it, it speaks to me, too,” you nod, a nervous smile crossing your cheeks, the lie so clear on your tongue. maybe you didn’t think through what a date at an art exhibit would entail, especially going with someone who studies it. you were clueless in the cream colored walls, you wished you could see through his eyes, understand his thought process.

“it’s okay, definitely abstract,” he shrugs, the warm smile that was still on his face told you he saw straight through your lie but he didn’t mind, “at least you got desolation right on the mark.”

you run a hand through your hair, your cheeks becoming red hot, “i’m enjoying listening to you explain everything to me, though.”

“there’s cooler ones the further we go,” his head nods deeper into the exhibit, his hands finding his pockets. you try not to pout again, maybe if you understood red white and blue better his hand would be intertwined with yours.

as he brought you deeper into the exhibit, his statement sat with you in the silence, especially as you began skipping piece after piece — you thought that if this was his first time here and since he’s clearly an art guy, he wouldn’t be skipping anything. as you listened to the only noise, your boot covered feet hitting the floor, you remembered the doorman who called him by his name earlier.

“have you been here before?” you asked from behind him, your eyes trained on the maroon coloured corduroy.

“no, why?” it felt like a rebuttal as it left his lips, his eyebrows furrowing together, almost as if you insulted him.

“just wondering,” you kept your thoughts to yourself, keeping tabs on every flag you weren’t sure what color to give. as lost as you were in the exhibit, it still interested you to be here, to listen and learn from him as he spoke about the things he loved most — plus there was him, the tall, perfectly gorgeous man that stood in front of you.

the next hour was spent with hyunjin showing you pieces of art that you couldn’t begin to dissect, leaving him to pick them apart piece by piece. the feeling of being on the outside faded with each new painting, new sculpture, new drawing, he made you feel as if art was a distant friend you just needed to catch up with, even if you had never been interested in art before today. the way he explained, the way he taught, how he asked you questions, it made you feel like you knew all the information already– just needed someone to help you remember.

hyunjin was easy to talk to, he was understanding— he was kind, first and foremost. your favorite so far was his thinking face, how he’s quiet as he stares, his arms crossed, his lips pursed. when he was thinking you could see the gears turning, you watched as that beautiful head of his began concocting some form of explanation, a feeling for what he was looking at, how he could explain it to you– how he could make you feel like you knew it already.

then there was his smile, the warmth to his fingers that found yours again, the softness to his palm that enveloped yours perfectly. you begin to forget why you never dated in the first place if they were like this, full of curiosity, such a shared openness between yourself and another person, learning about each other and how to connect in real time. even if you and hyunjin didn’t share a passion for art, your conversation still flowed, you bonded through humor and the smaller things you’d learned about each other through texting.

as you got farther into the exhibit, turning around and making your way back up to the front, you noticed hyunjin took off his teacher hat and put on his charmer hat instead. you didn’t notice the switch, but your cheeks burned on your walk back to the front more than they had the entire date.

“if you want to meet kkami so bad, why don’t you just come over instead?” there was a soft tug to the corners of his lips as he looked down to you, your fingers intertwined as you approached the exit to the exhibit. your adrenaline sparked, heart beating a beat faster, cheeks warming as if on command.

“you don’t want to have wine?” you asked, but you weren’t opposed to the idea– as soon as hyunjin mentioned his dog and sent you pictures of him yesterday, you were sold on meeting him whether that was today or eventually.

“i have wine at my place,” he shrugged, “i also have a record player and a dog.”

you took a moment to think– if you went to the bar, it’d be a public space, which is good for safety reasons and feels more casual than being in his apartment with just the two of you, almost takes the edge off. at the same time, his apartment would be quieter, more intimate, a calmer environment for you to get to know him better, you felt you knew enough about him already to be comfortable around him alone. plus he has a dog.

“what kind of wine do you have?” you lifted a brow, a small smirk playing on your lips. you were sold already, but he didn’t need to know that yet.

his smile was worth a million dollars as he said, “you said you like red, so i picked up an ‘05 burgundy, cote de beaune.”

your smirk grew wider, ignoring the comment about the wine that you were sure was supposed to impress you, “had a plan to get me back at your place all along then, huh?”

“can a man not manifest?” he asked, immediately pulling a laugh straight from your lungs. “that’s a yes then?”

“yes, but only because i want to meet kkami, even if he isn’t very nice. he’ll like me,” you wave a hand at him, passing through the exit where a different doorman gave hyunjin a nod of his chin – a small gesture that didn’t escape your eyes.

hyunjin’s car was nice, nothing special, it still had that new car smell mixed with that of his cologne. he played frank ocean through the speakers at a low volume, background music to the sound of the windshield wipers clearing his vision. you couldn’t help but stare as he drove, eyes lingering on his sharp jaw, how his hair curled around his neck. your focus caught on his ring clad fingers that wrapped around the steering wheel, ears perking up at the soft hum emitting from his throat to the tune of the song. it was comfortable, you were comfortable, you began to regret the last few of your life spent not dating.

when hyunjin unlocked his front door, the lights in his apartment were already dim, and the oreo colored ball of fluff ran up to you immediately. he barked at first, but after you bent down and greeted him with a few strokes to his back, kkami was on his back and quiet, enjoying your affection.

“i told you he’d like me,” you smiled up at hyunjin through your eyelashes.

“i didn’t doubt you for a minute,” he stood smiling with an arm out in your direction. he had already hung his coat on the rack beside the door, he stood above you with a hand out in an offer to take yours too. you stood and began to take it off but he stopped you, painted fingers slipping underneath the wool to slip it off your back himself.

a blush crept back onto your cheeks again as you muttered a thank you, finally looking around to take in his space. all of his lights were dim, casting warmth onto his furniture, all dark and muted and cozy. his tables were all deep wood, there wasn’t much brightness in his space, not even in the books that littered the shelves on his walls. he had a tv across from the couch with a table in between, as you took off your shoes and stepped closer into the space you noticed art magazines laid across the surface.

the art on his walls were all of the same type, you supposed, you wondered if he made them himself. a fuzzy throw blanket laid over the couch, plants lived in the corners, hwang hyunjin’s space was so inviting. you were glad you came here– one look at his own space showed you even more about him.

hyunjin skipped through the apartment, lighting candles, opening his windows just a crack to let the noise of the rain hitting the ground slip through.

“you can sit on the couch if you want, make yourself at home. i’ll grab us some glasses, put some music on,” he said with a hand halfway in a candle, flicking a lighter with his thumb. he was really dedicated to setting the mood.

you nodded and sat on the couch, kkami jumping up beside you on the cushion, crawling onto your lap. you pet his head down to his back, cooing at him getting cozy on your lap, pulling your legs up to cross beneath you.

you heard the scratch of the record player and you turned to see hyunjin standing over it, placing the tonearm on the record while somehow carrying the wine bottle and two glasses by the stem between the fingers of his other hand. music fills the space of the apartment as he walks over to the couch and places the glasses on the table, pouring both of your glasses and placing the bottle between them.

“i can’t believe he’s being this nice,” he says as he sits next to you, an arm swinging over the back of the couch, one leg folded in front of him as he looks down to kkami.

“is this solomon burke?” you ask, eyebrow perching up as you catch the music playing through the apartment, you recognized his voice before the song.

hyunjin looks shocked, his eyes wide and his head tilted slightly forward, “i cannot believe you know that.”

“when did this come out? the sixties?”

“1964 to be exact, rock ‘n soul.”

“when i was younger i had a small infatuation with the movie dirty dancing, my favorite off the album is–”

“cry to me,” you both say in unison, then burst into a fit of giggles, kkami leaping straight off of your lap from your movement.

“i love old music like this, it’s so raw, full of soul,” hyunjin says, grabbing your glasses from the table and handing yours to you. he swirls his around in his glass and you copy him, swirling your own before taking a sip. you tried not to cringe at the taste.

“when men weren’t afraid to say what they wanted to,” you agreed, continuing his thought with your own, “so open in showing emotion, their feelings, their passion. i love it too.”

“ah,” he nods, “that could never be me, i don’t think i could ever hide what i was feeling for a second, i don’t have it in me. i wear my emotions on my face, and proudly.”

you smile, “that’s good, better than good, it’s refreshing. never change that.”

“i don’t plan to,” he shakes his head, taking a sip of his wine, the two of you falling into a moment of silence.

“is this where you make me tell you my deepest, darkest secrets?” you joke, taking a sip from your own glass– you were never much for wine, at your big age of twenty two the most pleasurable alcohol you’ve tasted is a surfside. you get it down without a change to your face, looking through your eyelashes to the man before you.

he lets out a sound of amusement, “you can start by telling me what you’re looking for, then we can get to your deepest darkest secrets.”

“i already told you, i just wanted to go on a date, see where it goes– i’m not looking for anything specifically,” you shrug, referring to one of the first conversations you had through text. you were lying straight through your teeth, you didn’t need to tell him the whole boyfriend before thanksgiving spiel.

“not about the date, dummy, what are you looking for in a partner?” he tilts his head, sinking into the couch, getting more comfortable.

“that’s basically asking me for my deepest, darkest secrets,” you roll your eyes, then give yourself a moment to think, process his question. did you even know what you were looking for?

you thought about your cousins, their partners, your parents, your stepdad, ace, his girlfriend, their dynamic… you knew what you didn’t want.

“i want someone who knows me,” you start, a blush creeping to your cheeks again, “someone who knows the ugliest parts of me and still wants to be with me. someone who knows what i’m thinking, what i’m going to say before i do because they’ve paid that much attention to me.” you brush your hair behind your ear, letting out an uneasy breath. “i have a big family, and they’re really important to me… despite how insane they all are. i want someone who understands that, and my family becomes just as important to them.”

hyunjin nods, his warm eyes trained on you as if he was pulling the thoughts straight from your head, pushing for you to keep going. you welcome the push as your thoughts start to flow freely.

“i want to be with someone true,” you smile, “i want a partner who’s honest, true to themselves and true to me, doesn’t fake anything, none of that sugar coating shit. a true partnership, teamwork, someone who really means it when they say through thick and thin, someone who doesn’t run when shit gets hard.”

“a relationship is pointless to me if it isn’t built on trust, i want to be able to have full faith in my partner and they also have it in me. to be known is to be loved,” you smile, then the smile drops as soon as you realize everything you just said. three sips of wine and you already can’t shut up.

“every time i’ve asked that question in the past, every girl has always said something along the lines of i want someone handsome, funny, smart, kind,” hyunjin’s face is unreadable, a blank expression, yet there’s something tugging at him. “no one’s ever given me such a real answer before.”

“i didn’t mean to, i don’t know where that came from,” you say honestly, then sip your wine again, a bigger sip this time. if you were going to talk like this then you might as well catch a buzz before you do.

“i like the honesty,” he smiles, “and i agree with a lot of it– i can be a lot sometimes, with what i’m passionate about, how my interests can change within a day’s time. i’m not very organized, i like to do things without a schedule, more spontaneous than planned. that’s not everybody’s cup of tea, so if someone were to be with me for real, i’m a lot to take on.”

“i do like spontaneity,” you nod, “but i am definitely more of a planner, i was happy we made plans days in advance. gave me time to mentally prepare,” a laugh leaves you. “you’re definitely a more passionate person than i initially thought.”

“there’s a lot more passion you haven’t seen yet,” he winks, then takes a sip from his wine.

you giggle, “yet?”

“yet,” he nods in confirmation, and there’s something about the way he’s saying something without saying it, making you read between the lines but also being so obvious. it’s his confidence, the way his jaw is set but he looks so soft, so inviting, it makes you want to lick the line from below his ear to his chin.

maybe san and ace were right – maybe you did need this, maybe you even wanted it. you couldn’t put your finger on why that sentence made your body run hot, a burning in your core that you haven’t felt in ages, a want for somebody else that wasn’t fully based on looks or a system full of a frat house’s jungle juice.

“when do i get to see it?” you ask, tilting your head, letting your tongue slip out to lick your lips. a smile graces his own, like he was hoping for that answer. you weren’t sure where your own confidence was coming from, maybe it was being so honest with him, a feeling of being connected to him through your own revelations – things you haven’t shared with anyone else.

“just say the word, baby,” his words are like velvet as they leave his lips, kissing your ears with such a sweetness you were willing to start begging. you’d never been called baby by anyone, never been so wound up so quickly by something so inexplicably sexual – you decided then and there that your first ever date was only going to end one way.

as if on cue, the song changed, cry to me by solomon burke playing through the record player, the soft cracks of the vinyl making you feel as if fate was in the dim living room, too.

“show me,” your words were barely above a whisper, the eye contact you were holding was so strong, so powerful it felt life changing when he moved across the couch.

he took your glass from your hand in silence, setting the pair on the coffee table, then his hands were on you. his right hand came under your jaw, his left in your hair and then he took a pause, giving you a second to burn the sight to memory, making sure you felt the intensity of his stare before he leaned forward, attaching his lips to yours.

his lips were as soft as they looked, plump and sweet, tasting like the wine you’d been drinking and notes of himself, raw and unfiltered. the kiss was deafening, your ears rang, you were putty in his hands from the moment his painted fingertips touched your skin. your hands went to his forearms, fingers latching onto his soft skin as his lips moved with yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth the second your jaw opened wide enough to let him in.

your lips were still touching as he mumbled, “taste just as sweet as i thought you would.” you could feel him smile into the kiss as you replied with a noise of satisfaction, somewhere between a moan and a whimper.

he moved to sit back on the couch, legs bending with his lips and hands still on you, forcing you to follow him backward. you lifted up on your knees and crawled on top of him, settling yourself into his lap. you ignored your skirt as it lifted, forcing yourself free of its confines, letting it rest just below your ass and high on your thighs as your hands moved to his neck, fingers twining into his hair, tangling in the roots.

a low groan left his lips when you offered a sharp tug to his dark locks, his hands moving from your head down to your waist, one slipping down to the plush of your ass. you gasped into the kiss, welcoming his tongue again, effectively silencing you while making your head spin.

you stayed like that for awhile, making out on his couch, hands exploring and touching and feeling and not quite taking the step to go farther. when he finally pulled away and let his head fall to the back of the couch you pouted, the voice in the back of your head telling you to follow him backward, to lick up the column of his neck he was showing off so proudly.

“i didn’t bring you here just to sleep with you, you know,” he admits, his expression turning serious, lowered eyes locked on yours through long lashes.

you nodded, bringing a hand up to wipe the remnants of your messy makeout from your bottom lip with low, cracking music from the record player still filling the space of his living room. you felt as if he was leaving the next step up to you, and you were met with two choices: to cut it off here, not go any further, maybe kiss a little more then go home, maybe even plan another date. or you could grind yourself against his lap, lick up his neck like you want to, and finish what you started.

“okay,” you blinked, not missing how his chest rose and fell, a need disguised by heavy breaths locked within his chest that he was trying not to show. he wanted this just as much as you did, the only choice was the latter— you weren’t used to the choice being left to you.

“what if i want to?” you asked, batting your lashes, a ghost of a smile sitting on your lips. his own smile grew, his fingers grabbed your hips, his hips bucking upward to push you toward him once more.

you kept him there, back against the couch, head tipping off the back of it as you acted out your fantasy, dragging your tongue from just above his collarbone to his jaw. he groaned again, a vibration against your tongue as your lips worked onto his neck, his fingers gripping your hips harder. he used his hands to move you, grinding you against himself until you could feel what you needed pressing up against your too clothed center. you gasped into his skin– it was hot, the feeling of being guided yet knowing you were the one holding the reins.

you didn’t need his hands anymore as your lips met his again, hips rocking against him all on your own as your fingers clutched onto his roots, tugging at them to bring him closer to you. it felt like a dance, one that you’d been performing for years, your bodies moving in sync with one another so perfectly you almost forgot you met each other a couple hours ago.

his fingers reached for your sweater, you broke the kiss just long enough for him to tug it over your head, your fingers immediately reaching for the hem of his own shirt. he unclasped your bra with one hand rendering your chests bare against one another, the heat between you only intensifying with his skin against yours. he leaned off the back of the couch and you moaned as his hands made their way up to your chest, thumbs dancing over your peaks with a feathered touch, your hips plummeting into his own.

“so perfect,” he breathed, attaching his lips to your chest instead and your head fell back with a sigh, back arching into his touch. “so sensitive.”

“always,” you mumbled, voice sounding completely dazed, yet you made the conscious decision to not share that your sensitivity was from your lack of experience. not that you haven’t slept with many people, you did go to a big school, but it was never like this. basically sober, so intimate, watchful eyes on your reactions and words spoken between kisses, never with a man anything like hwang hyunjin. you were used to drunken quickies with finance majors, a quick rub to your clit before they slipped inside, in the bathroom of a frat house or if you were so lucky, a bedroom on the top floor.

his hands fell to your thighs, fingers trailing over the nylon, thumbs rubbing circles on the inside as his pretty pink lips worked on you, your hands finding refuge in his roots again, scratching into his scalp.

“wanna move to my room?” he looked up to you and it snapped you out of your haze, nodding down to his chocolate covered eyes, and he stood. palms holding onto your ass, strong thighs hoisting you up, your legs wrapped around his tiny waist as he walked you through his living room, down a hallway and laid you onto the plush of his mattress.

his room’s lighting was just as dim as the living room, his windows already opened, a chill hitting the skin of your chest as your back hit the crimson duvet. he was quick to crawl on top of you, soothing the bumps that rose on your skin while straddling your legs with his own, fingers lifting your skirt up to your waist.

“this okay?” his eyes flickered to yours with a pause, thumbs hooked beneath the elastic of your tights. you nodded, lifting your hips so he could get them down your thighs, yet he still paused. “words, baby.”

your words were too quick, so eager it was almost laughable as you nearly cut him off, “yes, please.”

he took his time sliding the nylon fabric down your legs, taking your socks with them and throwing the ball of fabric to the floor. you were left in your panties and your skirt around your waist, the skirt he quickly discarded, your panties he left on.

“you’re so fucking gorgeous,” he said under his breath, eyes raking down your body from your head to your knees. “i’m so lucky.”

your face matched the bedspread, now you were really in unknown territory. your arms went up to cover your cheeks and he was quick to grab your wrists, lips coming forward to kiss the inside of your left one.

“don’t get shy on me now, let me worship you,” your chest was starting to match your face. it was mortifying being left bare for him when he was still clothed from the waist down, but it somehow made everything feel so much hotter. no man has ever spoken to you like this before, taken the time to learn you.

you watched as his chiseled abdomen folded when he dipped his head down, lips pressing against the skin of your stomach, licking right below your chest. his hands let go of your wrists to slide down to your hips, thumbs hooking into the fabric of your pink lacy panties as his lips left a trail of spit down your waist. you fought every instinct to keep your hips planted on the mattress as his tongue slipped out of his lips to swipe below the hem, a gasp leaving your throat, your joints locking under his touch.

“wore these just for me?” he asked with a smile on his cheeks, cocking his head to the side playfully, thumbs rubbing circles into your hips soothingly.

“shut up,” you mumbled, legs automatically closing around his shoulders out of embarrassment, only forcing his face down further to escape the cage you created. he giggled then placed a quick kiss on your clothed clit through the thin fabric, making a mewl rip from your throat, your hips bucking upward.

“you’re so sensitive,” he marveled, eyes widening a bit like he had just discovered ground breaking information.

you were growing impatient, hips no longer staying glued to the bed out of sheer will, you needed more. you whined, muttering a “hyunjin please” and his grin told you enough.

he was quick to get back on his knees and slip your panties down your legs, throwing them to the floor with the rest of your clothes and he pushed you up the bed, kneeling in front of you. his eyes stayed glued to your center as he laid between your legs again, nearly drooling as he spoke, “such a perfect little pussy.”

he licked a fat stripe up your folds and your head shot back, eyes screwed tight as a disgusting moan escaped your lips. he smiled into your core, you could feel it amongst his flattened tongue that worked you from bottom up.

“tastes as good as she looks,” you couldn’t bother to be embarrassed anymore, hips bucking into his mouth, your hands flying to his hair. he groaned into you, lips sucking harder around your clit, listening to your moans for what you liked best.

he worked up to a rhythm, sucking on your clit and licking swirls with his tongue before you felt the painted tip of his finger poking at your entrance.

“yes, yes,” you repeated through a moan and he pushed in, his finger immediately curling upward and you saw stars. eyebrows furrowed and mouth hung open you were choking out moans, repeating words of affirmation to hyunjin that you hoped made sense.

as your stomach began to tighten, you couldn’t believe it. no one else had ever made you cum before, that’d always been something you could only do by yourself. excitement bubbled in your stomach as well as your impending release, words flying out of your mouth you couldn’t even decipher.

“please make me cum, please hyunjin i’m close,” your mouth was moving before your brain could think of the words, back arching off the bed and fingers yanking at his hair, you were praying he’d get you over the edge.

hyunjin kept his rhythm, curling his finger inside you and sucking at your clit until he felt you clench around him, your body locking up. your toes curled as your back arched up off the bed, thighs strangling his head between them, chin tucking into your chest as you cried. mumbles of i’m coming please don’t stop left your lips repeatedly as the dam in your core cracked open, you felt static in your veins and such a vicious shake to your body that seemed to last forever.

when your body went limp and you let go of his hair, hyunjin broke free, coming up for air with his tongue swiping at his swollen lips.

he crawled up your body, mouth finding yours quickly and you melted into the mattress, arms hooking around his neck. “so good at that,” you mumbled between kisses, “made me cum so hard.”

“that was the goal, baby,” he smiled into the kiss, his right arm flying down to his belt. you met him halfway, fingers unhooking the silver buckle while your lips never parted until you finally pulled it from its loops. you unzipped his corduroys and your hand reached above his briefs, palming him over the fabric.

he groaned, his cock rock hard against your skin, and you smiled. “i need you,” you said, lips still touching his, and the sound that left his mouth straight into yours was lethal.

he got his pants off in record time, reaching for a condom in his nightstand. he rolled it on with ease and slipped right back between your legs, your ankles in his hands. he kissed the inside of your ankle once, twice before he wore his serious expression again. “tell me if you want to stop at any point, okay?”

“i will,” you nod, twitching with impatience before he lined himself up with your center. he pushed in slowly, your entrance slick with your orgasm didn’t give him much resistance. you moaned at the same time when he bottomed out, your eyes flying to the back of your head and his head fell forward.

hyunjin wasn’t thick but he was long, you could feel him so deep. it was a delicious stretch, a feeling he shared as he said, “feel so good around me baby, pussy’s so perfect.”

you moaned in response, hips moving to create some friction, begging him to move. he caught on, slowly pulling out before rocking back into you, letting go of your thighs to lean over your frame.

you felt small beneath him, as tall as he is he felt massive above you, inside you. your ankles hooked around his back, thighs pushing him inside you as your chests met.

“so fucking big,” you moaned out, nails clawing at his shoulders as he picked up the pace. his right hand moved to your jaw, holding it steady to press his forehead to yours before he connected his lips with yours again.

the kisses were nasty, more tongue and spit than anything but it was so hot. you moaned into each other’s mouths, every inch of your skin touching, everything about it was so intimate. it was all so new yet you welcomed every part of it, hookups in frat houses would now be a thing of the past — there was no better than this.

“so tight, baby fuck,” his eyes were screwed tight as he picked up the pace, his head falling into the corner of your neck that met your shoulder. you let out small whimpers with each of his thrusts, the curve to his cock hitting every spot you needed it to.

“you g’na cum for me?” you sounded so fucked out you didn’t recognize your own voice, so weak and desperate.

“need you to cum for me first, pretty girl,” he lifted his head, rocking his hips into you harder, bringing his arm between your bodies to rub your clit.

“fuck,” you gasped out and his lips were on yours again, still all spit and tongue, he swallowed your moans as you felt the tightness in your stomach form again.

“cum for me, baby, please, cum around my cock,” he moaned as you clenched around him, his thrusts beginning to lose their edge as you approached your peak.

“i’m coming,” your words were rushed out as your second orgasm finally crashed over you, the most lewd noises leaving hyunjin’s mouth and directly into yours. you looked up to him with stars in your eyes, his own clamped shut, wet hair sticking to his forehead. he was beautiful like this — you were in awe.

“good girl, fuck, gonna fill you up,” his thrusts were erratic, not as precise as before as he choked out, “gonna make this pussy mine.” your ankles tightened around his back as he fucked you through your orgasm and towards his own, your back arching up into his chest, nails clawing into his back.

“cum for me,” your head was somewhere else, “wanna feel you, hyunjin, let me feel you cum for me.”

his hips stilled inside you, head falling to the pocket of your shoulder again, a deep groan leaving his chest. a moan escaped you, rocking your hips against his, milking his orgasm for as long as you could.

you lay there for a moment, hyunjin still inside you, your ankles hooked around his back with no sound except heavy breaths and the low music playing from the living room. after a few minutes he rolled off of you, laying on his back for a moment before he got up to discard the condom. you felt cold again, the shiver from his open window creeping over your skin again, bumps once again rising to the surface.

when he hopped back onto the bed with that beautiful fucking smile of his, warmth enveloped you once more. he pecked you once before hovering over your face, brushing a piece of hair away from your cheeks.

“you’re so beautiful, you know that?” his eyes bored into yours with a seriousness he wanted you to feel. you smiled, cheeks flushing, arms wrapping over your chest.

your lips scrunched together in your smile, muttering a thank you while shying away from his eye contact and shifting your focus to his pillows.

you felt like a brand new person — one that goes on dates, one that has sex, real sex. one that communicates, one that doesn’t shy away from a real conversation, one that is now fully open to having a relationship.

by the end of the night when you and hyunjin were fighting for him to take you home (you wanted to go home, he wanted you to stay the night) you thought that maybe you wouldn’t have to go on any more dates. maybe hyunjin was it for you, art nerd and all, he could be the one to show off to your cousins— get that family ring around your finger.

when he kissed you goodbye in front of your front door you were convinced. optimistic as ever and excited, full of adrenaline, you skipped into your dark house and fled up to your room, smiling from the time you hopped in the shower until your head hit your pillow.

8fd masterlist | main masterlist

perm tags: @chimivx :p

#hwang hyunjin #skz hyunjin #skz #stray kids au #stray kids x reader #stray kids smut #stray kids #hyunjin #hyunjin x reader #skz fic #skz scenarios #skz smut #hyunjin x you #hyunjin x y/n #hyunjin x female reader #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin smut #8fd

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toorusluvr · 5 months ago

Text

... 𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐈𝐓 𝐁𝐀𝐃 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪

characters: sylus (love and deepspace) x f!reader

content warnings: vaginal penetration sex + p in v + cowgirl position + mirror sex + sylus being cocky and sarcastic + kneeling sex + missionary sex + unprotected sex + not proofread lol i'm sorry this was written on a whim

notes from nis: my first ever sylus smut lol he has been on my mind ever since the first day he was announced! he has no business being this hot! anyway, if you're also a haikyuu fan pls check out my series featuring iwaizumi hajime ehe. as usual, your likes, reblogs, and comments are very much appreciated! <333 listen to around me - metro boomin ft. don toliver while reading! (only bcs i listened to it on repeat while writing this it's my new fav song atm!!)

sylus who got really interested and was in awe the entire time you were riding him. sylus sees himself as someone who would rather take the initiative in everything that he does, especially sex. after all, he always carries this dominating aura to wherever he goes. but he's not dumb enough to turn down his sweet little girlfriend's intriguing offer to be on top. you wanna show him? go ahead, sweetie. he's your audience and he wants you to entertain him. stun him, make him praise you.

what got sylus going was how enthusiastic you looked when you were on top of him, riding him to the extent your legs were sore enough to walk the moment after. sylus's cock was big and thick. it was no picnic to be on top, taking all of him while trying to work on your hips back and forth, grinding on his cock. you whimpered and moaned endlessly. from grinding to bouncing on his cock but he never once interrupted your hard work.

"mm, sylus, please. need you," you whined, hips stuttering to continue fucking yourself dumb on his cock. it's been almost half an hour but your orgasm was so close yet so far. sylus knew you were starting to get desperate to come, to chase that high you were desperate for. but, he needed you to last longer so you know he won't be giving in to you easily.

sylus's laugh was deep and warm, like the gentle roll of thunder. his eyes crinkled and his shoulders shook as his chuckles filled the room. "sweetie, you know the drills when you got on top of me. why don't you be a good girl and finish what you started, hm?" his hand then smacked your bottom as a sign of disapproval. seemed like sylus wasn't too happy when you were whining to him.

you threw your head back, groaning in frustration. this man wouldn't let you give up easily. said that you must persevere no matter what the occasions are. you must rise and be the strongest. but not like this! not when you were vulnerable, aching and desperate for him to take control.

both your hands were now planted on his sculpted chest. his chest glistened with sweat, a bit slippery for you to hold. you then moved closer, your tits pressed against his chest. your arms circled around his broad shoulders. sylus shifted uncomfortably beneath you as he felt your hardened nipples brushed against his sensitive chest. fuck.

again, you rocked your hips, slowly grinding on his cock filling you up so good. all warm and thick inside of you. there was a large full-length mirror next to his bed. from ceiling to floor kind of mirror. he installed it long time ago but you never knew what purpose does it serve. maybe now it finally clicked in your mind.

you've always enjoyed seeing yourself in the mirror or any other reflective surface. maybe this moment needed you to focus on yourself instead of the man underneath you. slowly, you got up. your attention was no longer on sylus but the mirror next to the bed. sylus then shifted his gaze towards the mirror too. now, both of you were staring into each other's eyes through the reflection.

your naked bodies exposed, displaying your most intimate time together. slowly, you rocked your hips, trying to find your rhythm. the tip of his cock nudging your sensitive spot with each thrust. your soft yet heavy pants coming from you filled sylus's room. the man didn't even bat an eye at your noises. his hands then moved to your waist, keeping your hips steady.

since sylus won't take control, you decided to take the matter into your own hands. you know too well he'd end up a whining mess if you started bouncing on his cock. since he was too smug to help you, you planted both your hands on his lower abdomen. your hips moved sensually, grinding on him slowly before you got on your knees and moved up and down his cock. sylus let out a staggered breath once he felt your cunt clenched tightly around his aroused cock.

his larger hands had a firm grip on your waist. he didn't even have to guide your hips now that you did it all by yourself. you alternate between grinding and bouncing up and down his cock. sylus let out soft grunts when your hips started moving faster, just fucking yourself with his cock. what pissed him off was that your attention wasn't even on him but the stupid mirror.

you looked at your drop dead gorgeous reflection in the mirror, bouncing up and down his cock. your tits jiggled with each bounce. you whimpered pathetically at the way his cock nudged your most sensitive spot. "fuck me," you muttered under your breath.

sylus's eyebrows knitted as he grumbled, "you're already doing that, sweetie. using my cock like a sex toy, huh?"

still, you weren't looking at him. he got frustrated so he flipped both of you over. he had the upper hand and he used it to his advantage. he couldn't stand not looking at you in the eyes. to not have your attention on him is fatal to him. sylus needs those beautiful pair of eyes to be on him at all times.

you squealed the moment he used his force to flip you guys over. your back pressed against his bed, his height towered over you. "what's so interesting about that mirror, hm? i need your eyes on me, kitten," he spoke in between sharp intakes of breath, each exhalation coming out raggedly.

sylus's thrust was merciless. he kept fucking you like tomorrow doesn't exist. his patience runs thin when he's inside you. he loves taking his time with you but now, he just wants to make you a crying mess. you stumbled upon your words, unable to speak when your cunt being stretched by his thick cock.

you clawed against his back. several faint scratches decorating his muscular back. "fuck, sylus! give me more, please!"

sylus then cupped your chin when you had your eyes shut. he tightened the hold on your cheeks, "open your eyes, sweetie. i need your eyes on me or else i'll leave you high and dry. eyes on me, sweetie. it's now or never." sylus's voice was a dark, smooth blend of sensuality and power, each words punctuated with a commanding edge. typical sylus.

feeling so dazed in your lust, you slowly opened your eyes. his handsome face came into your sight. hair all messy and some strands were sticking to his forehead that was glistened with sweats. he smirked, crimson eyes looking down at you. his gaze filled with hidden desires.

sylus once again flipped both of you over. this time, he got you on all fours, positioning you in front of the mirror. you gasped loudly when he didn't give you any break from his punishing thrusts. at this point, your cunt could remember his cock so damn well. you tried hanging your head low, shying away from the intense gaze sylus was giving you. but he tugged on your hair, making you squeal.

it's like he had you on a leash with the way he tugged on your hair. not until he pressed your back against his front. now both of you were skin to skin again. sylus's ragged breaths felt warm, tingling your ear. you gulped hard. the heat radiating from sylus's body engulfed your skin. sweats started to run along your back. both of you were sweaty and satiated but no one had their first orgasm yet.

"fuck, look at you, sweetie. looking grumpy just because you cannot make yourself come, hm?" sylus's words taunted you. a smirk tugged in the corner of his lips seeing your frustrated expression. yeah, he hit a nail with that one. "my cock is not good enough for you, sweetie?"

you wanted to tell him to shut his mouth but that would be fatal. nah, he won't kill you. he loves you too much. still. you don't dare to go that route yet. "please, sy. i'm tired," you tried bargaining. a negotiation with the devil? yeah, best of luck to that.

sylus scoffed. his jaw ticked at your pitiful plea. "no, not yet, sweetie," he groaned, head thrown back. sylus stifled the rising impulses to come inside you, but he pushed them down with deliberate effort to maintain control over his cold reactions. "ah, fuck," he cursed under his breath.

he fucked you hard and fast, to the point you got overstimulated and tears started streaming down your face. sylus made you watch you cried your eyes out while being pounded relentlessly. your tits jiggled with each punishing thrust. it was sinful, really. but the devil has seen worse. this was blissful. a piece of heaven he could get.

"ah, sylus!" you screamed at the top of your lungs. sylus's hand reached down to cup your pussy, thumb ghosted over your clit. he let his touch lingered there for a while. eventually, he started to draw circles on your puffy clit, waiting for your orgasm to break loose. your breaths came in erratic bursts, each one uneven and sharp as if you were struggling to catch up.

sylus felt the way your pussy clenched around his cock so tightly, it might never want to leave. it was pushing him to his limits too. fuck fuck fuck. he couldn't do this dance any longer. he pushed your body down to the bed, pressing on your back as you arched your back for him. his cock pounded your pussy harder that each breath that came out of you felt hard. you cried with each breath until your orgasm finally broke, releasing the high and endorphins all over the system.

"fuck," you sobbed as you gathered your breath slowly. sylus fucks like a mad man. but he was yet to come so he used you, he used your pussy until his come, hot and thick, filling your womb to the brim. though a wave of dizziness threatened to overtake him, sylus steadied himself and pushed through, determined to check on his girlfriend.

"fuck, sweetie. you were..." he ran out of words. but sylus managed to pick where he left off, "you were so good for me."

you let out a breathless chuckle, "you must persevere, yeah sure i did, babe."

sylus's chuckle was a deep, gravelly rumble, each note rasping out with a rich, textured quality. "mhm, using my words against me, sweetie? have i underestimated your determination or overestimated your intellect?"

he then laid you down on his bed, limbs tangled with each other. both of you tried to gather your consciousness and breath together. "love to see you get all worked up, sweetie," he whispered before planting a kiss on your cheek. "like a feisty kitten." you then hit him on the chest. what a way to ruin your post-orgasmic bliss. sylus must be tone deaf since he cannot read the room at all. but he's a damn good guy when he wants to be and you happen to love both his good and bad sides. that's what makes him even more special.

divider creds to cafekitsune <3

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace x reader #lads sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #love and deepspace smut #lads smut #lnds smut #sylus x reader #sylus smut

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prismkith · 15 days ago

Note

may I ask for a oneshot with jinx like introducing her girlfriend, fem!reader to vander/warwick? and for a while he's like just sniffing and eyeing her suspiciously or whatever until he sees her and jinx in a super like intimate and sincerely loving moment?

also! may I be 🫀 anon? :3

Hi! Yes you absolutely may! i loved this request, and I hope you love what I wrote based off of it!

'How I met your grandfather'

pairing: Jinx X Fem!Reader

genre: fluff, maybe a hint of hurt/comfort

Wc: 2835

You sigh as you enter Jinx’s hideout, shoulders sore and the bags under your eyes growing heavier and heavier. You'd been out with Sevika keeping the lanes in check after the Stillwater breakout, and it was tireless. Enforces had been down your throats the entire time, and balancing keeping the enforcers from beating angry zaunites while also wanting to beat the shit out of them yourself had taken its toll.

The lanes have been a never-ending job since Silco died.

You felt horrible for leaving jinx alone after the attack, but she understood. You worked for Silco when he was here, and now sevika. She knew what your job entailed and was used to you being gone for days at a time.

Stepping onto the still wings of the fan, you were confused by the noise or lack thereof. Her hideout was never quiet, always the sound of her tinkering, or having dance parties and bug-boxing matches mixed with Ishas giggles.

“I’m home! Anybody here?” you call out into the air. The only response is the echo of your own voice. “Isha? Jinx?” you call out once more. Confused, you walk up to her workstation, cluttered and disorganized as always. You're met with a note on her desk, your name in her distinctive scribbly handwriting on the front page.

‘Hey trinket, we found Vander. Took him to some mystery healer on the edge of Zaun. Meet us there if we aren't back before you.

Love ya’

Your eyes widen as you scan the letter once more, her lack of detail slightly worrying. Questions flooded your brain as you flipped her vague note to find directions on the back.

Scurrying to get your things together as quickly as possible, you take off in the direction of this ‘mystery healer’, your heavy boots loud as you run to find your girlfriend and her back from the dead dad

________________________________________________________________________

You're slightly panting as you reach the gates she directed you to, having sprinted half the way there, and jogged the other half. Pausing for a moment as you catch your breath, you make eye contact with a man standing in front of the gates.

His eyes are white, and he's covered in these bubbly pearlescent patterns, donned in the strangest clothes you've seen. You manage to mutter “The fuck…” before he’d beckoning you closer.

You slowly stand up straighter, distrust evident in your features as you begin to approach him.

Deciding that you in fact, do not want to open the can of worms that is the freaky-looking man with a blank expression, you attempt to walk straight past him, eyes set on the entrance in front of you, searching for any sign of wild blue hair or large semi robot beast.

You're stopped by Mr. Freaky before you can waltz past, his thin frame swerving in front of you. “I must ask that you turn in any weapons before entering,” he says, an odd cadence in his voice that you've never heard from a zaunite. You scoff at this request, “yeah, no thanks” you reply before attempting to shove past once more.

You stopped once again, his tone firmer this time. “I must insist, as it is the policy of the Machine Herald”. You consider just socking the guy in the face and making a run for it but decide that you don't know what kind of crazy superpowers this guy might have, and to be quite honest you don't want to find out.

“Look, not gonna happen. Not sure who this ‘machine herald’ is, but I'm looking for someone else. Just let me pass, i’ll be on my merry way and you can keep doing whatever…. This is” the annoyance shameless drips from your voice now, you have places to be and this guy is single-handedly keeping you from said places.

He once again denies you access, and you lose your shit. You're now (loudly) in a full-blown argument with this guy, neither of you budging. His voice is only starting to rile you up more, and you're an inch away from executing your hit-and-run plan from earlier when you hear the raspy voice of your lover calling your name.

You freeze immediately, fist pausing mid-air as your eyes dart behind the man to see Jinx, leaning against the entrance, arms crossed and a knowing smirk on her face.

“Stand down, sergeant. No beating the greeter.” her voice is sarcastic and teasing, and you sigh in defeat. Arms dropping and face annoyed as you reluctantly hand the man your pistol and several pocket knives that you keep strapped to you in various places.

Once unarmed, the man simply smiles and steps aside, and you make sure to knock him in the shoulder before stomping over to your girlfriend.

Your annoyance subsides as you see her smiling face, your arms immediately wrapping around her shoulders and pulling her close. You feel her relax into your embrace, strong arms circling your waist and giving you a good squeeze before pulling back.

“What the hell is this place, and why did that fish-man never change his facial expression once?” you question your voice laced with confusion and slight concern.

She simply shrugs her shoulders and turns to start guiding you through the odd community full of tents and more people with white eyes and pearlescent patterns. “Vi said she knew of a healer here in the lanes. Said he was performing some miracles or some magic bullshit.” she spins on her heel to look at you while continuing to walk backward. “Personally I think he's just some weird purple fortune teller, but Vi trusts him and Vanders actually getting better, so..” her voice softens during the last part of her sentence, voice trailing off as her eyes cast slightly downward.

You pause in your tracks, shock evident on your features. “Wait, Vi’s here?” not even attempting to hide the surprise in your voice at the mention of her estranged sister.

She sighs, once again avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, I mean, it's her dad too. Didn't feel right not letting her know that he's alive, at least.” you slowly nod as you come to terms with her reasoning.

“Anywho! Now we're here at this weird commune run by a metal fortune cookie that can read minds and I dead honestly think this place is a cult. Everyone here is weird. And the only good food is the fruit. The only snacks are trail mix and it's all eighty percent raisins,” her lip curls in disgust, shaking her head slightly before continuing. “I fucking hate raisins. Just give me a grape, I don't want its juiceless corpse as an alternative.”

You snort at her wording, but can't help yourself agreeing. Raisins suck and it's a crime to ruin perfectly good snacks with them.

You continue to follow her, passing tents all full of people dressed similarly to the first man you met. Some were in tents that looked more like workshops, cooking, and sewing, and some in tents that looked more like homes, full of pillows and blankets and small furniture pieces.

She continues to ramble about this place, she mentions that Isha is off in a tent somewhere helping a group of women weave a blanket (boring), how the healer (who you figured out is the machine herald from earlier) somehow knew her childhood name, and how Vi had turned into some emo looking alcoholic and lost another fight to jinx in an underground tunnel.

Finally, her walking begins to slow as you both reach a greenhouse near the middle of the village. It's a dome made of detailed stained glass, and you can vaguely make out the shape of the massive frame of Vander inside. You spot Vi sitting on the edge of what seems to be a water well, and Jinx’s description isn't too off. You make a mental note of the poorly done hair job and vow to make fun of her for it later.

When Vi looks up and spots you, she sends you a nasty glare before stomping away with an excuse of finding Isha. You roll your eyes, so what if you've tried to kill each other a couple of times? No big deal, honestly.

Jinx also rolled her eyes and dismissed her sister with a wave of her hand. “She’ll get over it, don't worry. She was just as dramatic when I went to find her.”

She simply crossed her arms, leading you to a bench outside the greenhouse. Once sat, she slumps into your side, shoulder pressing against yours and head leaning against the side of your own.

“It's weird, you know? It's him, he remembers me and Vi but… he’s also part of this beast he's trapped in. Vi keeps asking for my opinion on… All of this, but I have no clue. I think I'm still in shock from when I realized it was him.” She shakes her head, letting her voice trail off. You sit in silence for a moment, letting her words marinate in your brain.

You weren't sure how to respond, for Christ's sake, you barely even knew your own parents. What the hell do you say to someone who killed two of her dads, and then found out the first one is actually alive but trapped in the body of a hostile science experiment?

Deciding that there was nobody on the planet who could find the words to comfort someone in this situation, you simply grab her hand instead and allow her to rest against you. She knew what your body language meant when words failed you. She always did.

You sat like that for a while, enjoying each other's company and the quiet. It wasn't often that there was peaceful silence in Zaun, as silence usually meant danger. You both relished the feeling of letting your guard down for the first time in years.

Eventually, a man… or.. Robot? You weren't sure, steps out of the greenhouse. His body is a mix of purples and blues, looking like a painted night sky, and he is adorned in a cloak similar to those worn by the others on the commune. He approaches the both of you, still sitting on the bench, an aura of confidence and peace to him. His accent is thick when he finally addresses Jinx.

“I've decided to end our session today. Your father's condition is improving slowly but I can see him growing tired, and I fear pushing him too far may bear consequences.” he nods his head at you in a greeting as he finishes his sentence, before turning and walking away.

Jinx grumbles a response, something of a ‘thank you’ mixed with some sarcastic remarks, and you think you hear an ‘aluminum psychic’ mixed in there, but before you can think too hard she grabs your hand pulling you towards the greenhouse.

You stumble slightly, but follow her as she impatiently hops towards the door. Pushing the large door open, she drops your hand and runs inside. You're met with the smell of fresh plants and herbs as you follow her inside, slowly looking around the room and taking everything in as she runs over and wraps her arms around her father, asking how he's feeling.

His eyes immediately snap to you, a look of distrust and unease in his eyes as he stares you down. Jinx notices, and slowly steps back from her hug. She keeps her eyes on vander as she backs towards you, grabbing your hand before speaking.

“Vander, this is my girlfriend.” her voice is soft as she begins to slowly walk towards him, hand still locked in yours.

Fuck, you were not prepared for the whole “meeting the dad” part of all of this. Sure, you've met one of her dads before, but that's because you worked for him, so the stereotypical introduction wasn't necessary at the time.

Attempting to calm your nerves and make a good impression, you clear your throat and lift your hand as an offering for a handshake. “Hi- um, hello. Nice to meet you, sir. Big fan of your work. Both the daughter and the, uh, other stuff.” your voice shakes as you attempt a joke to try and relieve some of the tension growing in the small greenhouse.

Your introduction is met with silence, and then more silence, as Vander just stares at you, occasionally glancing between you and Jinx.

Finally, your girlfriend decides she's seen enough to rescue the situation, stepping between the two of you before breaking the screaming silence. “Well, this has been wonderful. We’ll let you get some rest for now, though.” she grabs your hand again, speedily leading you out of the greenhouse back into the peaceful village of tents.

Once outside you feel her drop your hand and pause, looking over to see her with her arms crossed and eyebrows raised, amusement causing the corners of her lips to curl up. “Nice one! Real smooth, babe.” she teases. You shake your head, biting the inside of your cheek and resting your hands on your hips. “I don't wanna talk about it.”

_____________________________________________________________

Vander glances around at the smiling faces surrounding him. Sat at a small picnic table outside the greenhouse sat his family. His eldest daughter to his right, and the miniature Powder to his left. A feast of fruits, salads, and roasted vegetables covered the table. A dinner cooked by a group of people on the commune.

Across from him sat grownup Powder and her… girlfriend.

Vander was already struggling to come to terms with the fact that his daughters were now grown. It felt like no time had passed in his mind, but the years had left their mark on the girls nonetheless, and now he has to come to terms with his youngest daughter being out in the world of romance. His little girl, all grown up and dating women he'd never even met before.

He continues to stare at the two of you, giggling and talking with the others at the table, shoulders occasionally brushing together. His eyes were weary as he watched you two, despite the fact that Powder seems to trust you with everything, nothing changes his distrust and distaste towards seeing his little girl all grown up.

He continues this internal battle in his mind, struggling with the growing protectiveness only amplified by the traces of the beast still in his mind. Even the tiny powder trying to get him to eat and offering him water couldn't help distract him from the affection being shown from across the table.

He could tell you knew he didn't trust you, as every time you made eye contact your eyes would dart away, face casting downwards.

Eventually, the sun sets, and the conversation at the table begins to slow as the food in front of him is quickly destroyed by the hungry teens accompanying him, miniature powder having fallen asleep against his leg not too long after.

He watches as Powder begins to grow tired next to you, her eyes drooping and shoulders slowly slouching as she tries to keep herself awake. You notice, and gently nudge her before deciding it's time to call it a night. You stand, and pull Powder up from the bench she's sat on.

“C'mon, sleepyhead,” you grumble as you turn around and lean over. She turns around and throws herself onto your back, her legs going around your waist as you catch her and lift her until she's snuggly pressed into your back, her head leaning into your neck as her eyes close once more.

His eyes soften as he watches you make your way to his side of the table to pick up the miniature powder from his lap and lift her to your front, one arm wrapped around her keeping her small frame firmly against your chest, the other arm still hooked under one of Powders knees to keep her balanced against your back.

The act reminds him of when Powder and Vi were young and would fall asleep on the couch or at the barstools while he cleaned up the bar after a long night. The memories caused a pang in his heart, chest contracting at the memories of when they were young, reminding him of all the years he must have missed.

As you slowly begin to walk away towards the tent Vi directed them to, he speaks up before you're too far away.

His gravelly and deep voice calls out behind you, “It was nice meeting you too..” you pause in your steps, turning your head to look at the man behind you to confirm you weren't hearing things. Upon seeing your face, he glances down before continuing, “You seem like a good kid, you're, uh, good for Powder.”

Your face slowly splits into a grin, simply nodding your head at him once, before turning and continuing your trek into the night.

Meet the future father-in-law: check.

____________________________________

A/N: ahhh first one shot let's go! hope you guys enjoy this one :3 luv my girl jinx that's my wife fr

#fanfic #fanfiction #arcane fanfic #arcane #arcane x reader #jinx arcane #jinx x reader #jinx #league of legends #jinx and isha #vander #warwick

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reshinless · 2 months ago

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the first time you let kinich take you out, you didn't expect him to do this—similarily seen in his birthday voiceline!

"are you really sure this is safe?! "you feel his gloved hands under your body as he picks you up into his arms—bridal style and everything. "I'm very sure, don't worry; my saurian is nice."

The eight-bit dragon merely grumbles under his pixelated breath as his huge, green hydra lets you both onto his back. "I don't kill humans that don't have the name 'kinich malipo', nor a saurian hunter." The statement sounds forced and almost sarcastic, but just enough for you to believe it.

kinich sat down, and let you take a seat right beside him—on his left specifically. the beast slowly spread its small, byte-like wings into the air, and leaped off.

the wind was fresh, blowing into your face, and through your hair. the saurian hunter only holding you close by your waist, a secure—firm grip, enough for you to relax, even for just a moment.

the view was worth millions of mora, you've never been able to see natlan this clearly. an enthralling, gorgeous, and unforeseen observation from the skies, maybe this ride wasn't as bad as you thought.

the night lightened the mood of the city, and the rest of natlan so beautifully. it almost brought you to tears, this is the same city you've been exploring this whole time, huh?

instinctively, you leaned in closer to the infamous raven head they call the saurian hunter 'malipo'. he couldn't help but set a speck of dust—a mere knit of red dance along his warm skin, specifically his face.

he lets out a bijou cough, clearing his throat of nervousness. as he softens his hold around your torso, letting you observe every little detail you may find while ajaw flies through the skies, giving you a show.

you shuddered—the temperature of the skies isn't what you expected. silently, almost expecting it, he swathed you in the simple fabrics of his jacket. the scent was such a familiar scent, that you couldn't help but melt into such clothing, only leaning your head further to your right.

ajaw suddenly leans too harshly onto the right, almost making kinich fall off—yet he seemed almost.. unfazed? "kin'!" your shout echoed through the skies, even stunning ajaw temporarily. a stoic, apathetic expression was on his face, kinich in this situation wasn't too amused, even letting out a scoff—growing a smirk on the very same expression. "seems like your trick backfired." "ohhhh- quit it, kiniiichh!!"

you let out a sigh of relief, "does he always do that? scared me half to death!" a concerned look tells him everything you felt when you saw him slip for a moment. "usually yeah, don't worry about it." you felt a similar smile bloom on your face, as ajaw slowly starts to descend, and kinich scooping you back into your arms.

he sets you down on the ground, near the house mualani lent you for the meantime of your travels in the renowned toyac springs. it was even prettier at night, you swear you could see the petals in the water light up under the moonlight!

"you feel nauseous, or sick? anything of the sort?" he checks your face, and any other spots where your skin can be seen, looking for any signs of injuries. "if so, I can punish ajaw for doing such." "hey that isn't what we agreed on!—" a rock is thrown at the large dragon, a growl as it keeps quiet. a gaze full of anger set out on kinich as you let out a chuckle.

"i'm fine, no worries. here, your jacket." you reach to hand his jacket back, you felt almost fighting against giving it back, it was warm, and it felt like a piece of him would always be with you. "—keep it. you'll need it for the rest of the night if you continue to hang outside. which I know you probably will, mualani is active at night, especially when cooking."

"so... i'll see you tomorrow?" your eyes looked into his for a moment, tilting your head even. "a- ahem... yes, I'll be here tomorrow. chief asked for your help anyway, so."

"bye then." you send a small wave to him.

"mmh.. yeah bye." he nodded, turning around to hide the redness that bloomed on his cheeks as to how flowers would in spring. gosh it was still fall!

"and goodbye to you too, ajaw." you waved the eight-bit dragon off as he huffed in pride. "farewell to you too, human."

you swear you could hear him and ajaw bickering about how you greeted them both a good night as they flew off once more, back to the canopy.

maybe you should go out more, specifically with kinich.

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 1 year ago

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Spending the night at Simon's for the first time and him waking up to you in nothing but his oversized t shirt

Request from here

***

Eyes blinking as light filtered through his closed lids, Simon began to stir as the first bit of the days brightness filled the small bedroom of his tiny apartment. Slowly those thick, long limbs of his stretched their compressed muscles back to life as the blood flowed through them.

Turning over, he was surprised that there wasn't another body laying next to him under the covers; your bright eyes and warm smile were what he had planned to gaze upon, but there was no one. That put him a little on edge, this being the first time you'd stayed over at his shitty little apartment, but he tried to keep calm until he was fully awake.

Simon moved up onto his elbow as he lay on his side, his large hand rubbing the rest of the sleep that lingered from out of his eyes. He looked about, trying to find any signs of you: your discarded clothes from the night before lay in a pile on the floor right next to your shoes, your earrings still sat on the bedside table, and as he checked the mattress with his hand he found that it was still warm. It was obvious you were still around, he just had to go and find you.

A full yawn passed his lips before he heard the sound of clinks and taps, bangs and rustling coming from towards the kitchen area. So that's where you'd sulked off to, making breakfast no doubt.

God you were too fucking much, he wasn't used to all this sweetness, but he wouldn't change it for anything.

Carefully and quietly he moved out of the bed, scratching at the sparse covering of hair on his bare chest before he stood and straightened his sweatpants around his hips. He was hoping he could surprise you by showing up to catch you in the act.

With easy steps, Simon walked out of the bedroom towards the kitchen and what he saw standing there amidst pots and pans, a stack of toast and a pile of bacon to your right, it took his goddamn breath away.

The expectation was to find you naked, since the only clothes you had were still on his bedroom floor, but that wasn't what he found at all. Your hair had been pulled up, a few stray hairs poking out around your hairline that hadn't been secured and it looked like the only thing you had on was one of his old baggy t shirts.

As you moved, Simon could just see a peak of the underside of your ass pop through the bottom of the shirt, playing peakaboo with him the longer he looked. The lines of your legs, looked even longer as the shirt sat just below your hips. Those juicy limbs looked good enough to eat, bare and glaring back at him.

Fuck, you had never been more beautiful to him; it nearly made his goddamn heart stop beating. Being a big man had its perks and this was one of the best ones he found, that you were able to wear his clothes.

In that moment as he watched you happily go about your work, looking like a comfy dream, images of you doing this full time flooded Simon's mind and his stomach flipped excitedly at the thought. If there was anyone that could make that rough and brazen military man soft, it was you.

And maybe it was about time he let someone do it...

There was a sudden warmness against your back as two bulky arms wrapped themselves around your from behind, making you jump a little at the surprise. " 'mornin, luv," Simon's husky voice hit your ears before his kiss touched your cheek. "See you've made yourself at home."

You leaned into him, enjoying the warmth he still had from being wrapped up tight in the covers moments before. "I just...I wanted to do something nice for you, make us breakfast," you said, giving the eggs in the pan currently in your grasp a flip.

"Pretty sure you do more than enough for a bastard like me," he chuckled as one of those thick mitts moved down and cupped lightly over your sex. "This is all I need to stay well fuckin' fed."

Immediately the heat rose in your cheeks, flushing your face bright red.

"But I meant my shirt," he continued, secretly smiling from ear to ear at how quickly he had you blushing. Certain, heavy movements from his hands flitted across your torso as he rubbed over the lines of your curves through the familiar fabric of his clothing.

"Oh, sorry," you quickly apologized, thinking you had possibly overstepped, "I hope you don't mind, I just needed something and it was just there in the top drawer and..."

Another kiss on your cheek shut you right up. "Look fuckin' good like this, luv," he purred in your ear, his low, gravely morning voice making you shiver.

"Really?" you asked, glad that he wasn't mad you'd commendeered his clothes; in reality you knew it would be nothing, but this being the first time you'd done this, you still had some giddy nervousness about everything.

"Ya look like a fuckin' picture to me," he reiterated, those full lips moving down to your next now as he leaned more against you. "I thought I looked good in this thing, but it ain't nothin' compared to a fuckin' vixen like you."

You giggled playfully at all the sweet praise. Nearly missing the eggs being done, you turned off the stove and set the aside until you both were ready to eat. "Please, I look like hell."

"Bullshit," he said as he turned you around, picked up you, and placed your butt on top of the nearest countertop. He slid in between your open legs, letting his hands run down your side from where he had lifted you, sliding tenderly over the shirt. He was right, you were naked save for the shirt and that did something to his still sleepy brain.

Greedily he tilted his head and leaned up into you, embracing your mouth fully with all of his and making your lips dance together. Feverish and sloppy Simon connected with your lips again and again, making your still sleepy brain flatline.

If you could wake up every day like this it would be a fucking living dream.

His kisses would not let up as he pulled you in closer, his hands running over the curves of your back as he stole your lips with a lazy intensity.

"Breakfast is gonna get cold," you groaned with eyes closed, mouthing the words against his parted lips.

His hips bucked into your own. "Nah, my breakfast feels mighty fuckin' warm to me, luv," he said as he kept right at it.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #call of duty #ghost cod #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost mw2 #cod mw2 #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #simin ghost riley #simon smut #ghost simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost call of duty #ghost #ghost cod smut

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enderlovez · 3 days ago

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Trivia Night

Spencer Reid x BAU Reader WORD COUNT: 791

Summary: Garcia should've known it was a bad idea to put you and Spencer on opposing teams at trivia night, and now she's stuck with two very competitive people who will stop at nothing to win.

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Garcia should have known better. Really, she should have.

The idea of a BAU trivia night seemed innocent enough—a fun team-bonding activity after a particularly grueling case. Drinks and snacks and a little friendly competition, what could possibly go wrong?

Apparently everything, when she made the critical error of placing you and Spencer on opposing teams.

"Alright, everybody!" Garcia chirps, standing at the front of the room with her clipboard. "Trivia night rules are simple: answer correctly, earn points; answer incorrectly, face public humiliation—kidding, sort of. Now, let's keep it light and friendly, okay?"

Spencer casts you a sly look from across the room, his lips twitching into a smirk. "Light and friendly," he echoes. "Got it."

You meet his gaze with an arched brow. "Sure, as long as you don't cry when you lose, Doctor Reid."

A ripple of laughter goes through the team, but Garcia sighs, already regretting her decision. "Why did I think this was a good idea?" she mutters to herself, scribbling a quick note to never pair you two against each other again.

The first few rounds go smoothly enough. Questions about geography and pop culture and history fly by, each team racking up points. You nd Spencer trade victories, but the air between you grows increasingly charged with every answer.

"You didn't even buzz in for that one!" you accuse after Spencer correctly answers a particularly obscure literature question.

"Because the answer was obvious," he replies smugly, leaning back in his chair.

"Oh, it's on," you mutter, cracking your knuckles dramatically, much to the amusement of the rest of them.

By the time the final round rolls around, the room is split between two factions: Team Spencer and Team You. Everyone else has resigned themselves to the sidelines, content to watch the show. Even Garcia has given up trying to referee, instead leaning against the bar with a drink in hand.

"This question," she announces, "is for the win."

You sit up straighter, your focus narrowing. Across the table, Spencer mirrors your intensity. His sleeves are rolled up, his tie loosened—classic signs of a man in deep competition mode.

"What is the capital of Bhutan?" Garcia asks, her eyes flicking between the two of you.

Your hand slams down on the buzzer half a second before Spencer's. "Thimphu!" you shout triumphantly.

Garcia checks her clipboard, nodding slowly. "Correct."

You throw your hands up in victory, earning cheers from your teammates. Spencer, however, is already leaning forward, his expression incredulous.

"That was a reflex," he argues. "She didn't even think about it."

You smirk, holding your hand up for a high-five from Morgan. "Or maybe I'm just faster and smarter than you, genius."

Spencer narrows his eyes. "Faster, maybe. Smarter? That's debatable."

The room erupts into laughter as you two go back and forth, your playful banter quickly escalating into a full-blown debate over split-second reaction times and the nuances of trivia strategy.

"Alright, alright!" Garcia finally intervenes, clapping her hands to get your attention. "We're calling it there before this turns into a break up. Trivia night is supposed to be fun, remember?"

You glance at Spencer, who's still staring at you like you've personally insulted his entire academic career. Despite his faux-annoyance, there's a glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

"Truce?" you offer, extending your hand towards him.

He considers it for a moment before shaking it. "Truce. But don't think this means I'm letting you win next time."

"Next time, you'll have to try harder," you reply with a wink.

As the room starts to clear now, you linger by the bar, waiting for Spencer to join you. When he does, he's holding two drinks—one for each of you.

"Good game," he says, handing you the glass.

"You're not mad I beat you?" you tease, taking a sip.

"Mad? No," he replies, leaning against the counter. "Impressed? Maybe. I didn't think you'd know the capital of Bhutan."

You grin, nudging him playfully. "I'm full of surprises."

Spencer chuckles, his gaze softening as he looks at you. "You know, Garcia's probably ever going to let us be on opposing teams again."

"Probably not," you agree. "But it was fun while it lasted."

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, the earlier competitiveness melting away. Despite the antics, it's moments like these—when you're teasing each other, laughing, and completely at ease—that make everything worth it.

"By the way," Spencer says after a moment, his tone casual but laced with mischief, "you buzzed in half a second early. Technically, you cheated."

You roll your eyes, but your smile doesn't fade. "Technically, I still won."

"Technically," he echoes, his lips quirking into a small smile.

And just like that, the competition starts all over again.

#spencer reid x girlfriend reader #spencer reid x bau reader #spencer reid oneshot #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x female reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x you #criminal minds x you #criminal minds x reader #enderlovez

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seospicybin · 3 months ago

Text

INEXPERIENCED.

Han x reader. (s)

Synopsis: One of your subordinates wasn’t performing the way you would have liked, you invited him for a drink in the hopes of encouraging him only to discover that he's inexperienced in other things too. (7,5k words)

Author's note: Let me know if you want a second part. Oh, and happy birthday, Hannie! ♡

"Goddammit!"

The chief's voice is sharp and loud like a crack of thunder but instead of lightning, it comes with a stack of papers hurling toward you.

Fortunately, it's breezing past the side of your head as it scatters in the air and the papers float before they make a quiet landing on the floor.

"Have you been teaching those under your wing right?" The chief yells again, this time personally aimed it toward you with his nostrils flared and his neck gets all red whether from the anger or his collar is too tight, or both.

"Don't make light of our work here!"

It's always safe to apologize first and explain later, it's even better if there are no explanations at all and admit right away that it's your fault.

"We're very sorry, sir!" You sincerely say while keeping your head down, you secretly glance to the side to check on someone and he does the same thing too.

"I'll take responsibility for this," you openly accept the blame as a good senior would do.

"Enough with your apologies!" The chief lowers his voice as he rubs on his wrist and you guess he got hurt from hurling the papers at you with all of his strength.

"Just go back to your work and do it right!" The chief yells once more as he hides the pain around his wrist.

You nod and put on a courteous smile, "Please, excuse us," you say.

You quickly make your way out of his office along with your junior co-worker and none of you say anything until you both turn into the hallway that leads you back to your office.

The person next to you, Han, stops walking and turns to face you, he's looking down at his feet when he apologizes, "I'm sorry. It was my mistake but I dragged you into this."

With a job comes a responsibility and when you get tasked to take him under your wing, you are fully aware that he's your responsibility and his mistake will be your mistake too. Since he's new, it's understandable that he stumbled on things but the problem is he's done it a couple of times already in the last five months he's been working here.

However, you remember you were once in his position and you've experienced how stressful it can be when everyone is pressing you from all sides, you don't want that for him so you try to be a compassionate senior for him.

You gently place your hand on his shoulder and smile at him, "The most important thing is you acknowledge your mistake and apologize. Now, we can just laugh it off," you tell him.

Han lifts his head, showing how sorry he is with his eyebrow downturn and wistful eyes, "We can't just laugh it off," he meekly says.

You put your hand on the small of his back and whisk him away to continue walking down the hallway, "Let's just laugh it off and have a few drinks tonight," you console him.

"Maybe just one drink," he says, feeling concerned with what you mean by a few drinks.

"Let's drink until morning!" You jokingly say, linking your arm with his.

"We can't drink until morning," Han meekly says as you keep dragging him along with you.

"Oh, come on!" You gently slap him on the chest and get surprised by the firm muscles he has under his crisp white shirt, "It's my treat."

What's a high-paying job when he earns more stress than money?

Han should consider himself lucky that he has you as a senior. Not only that you're nice, you are so kind and patient with him, you teach him everything he needs to know about his job and the company. You always try to cheer him up when he gets chewed off by the chief. You're not only making this job bearable to him, you make it possible for him to enjoy his work with you around.

"Oh, no!" You gasp as you see the sign taped on the front door of the bar.

"Our sanctuary!" You cry with your lips pursed and your shoulders sagged.

Closed for renovation, it says on it.

It's such a shame that the bar that you both regularly visit is closed on days like this when he needs to drink his sorrow away and just decompress.

"Shall we go somewhere else?" He suggests while scratching the back of his head, raking his brain for any bar he knows in this area.

Your face brightens as the light bulb in your head dings with an idea, "How about we drink at my place?"

"Huh?" His eyes burrowed in slight shock and confusion.

"Come on! It's just around the corner," you don't wait for his answer, you link your arm around him and whisk him away with you.

Turns out, you're not lying about your place is just around the corner. You live in a small house with a miniature garden in the back and everywhere he looks, there's a potted plant sitting in the corner of the room.

It creates such a contrast to the hustling and bustling of the city and the stressful environment at work, it offers a pleasant atmosphere that instantly puts him at ease.

Keeping the window open, the wind chime sings a tune every time a gust of wind brushes in between, sending them clinking against each other.

"How do you manage to take care of all of these plants?" He asks in wonder, foolishly touching the tiny thorns on one of your succulents.

"It's easy," you answer from the kitchen, "You just need to water them."

Han saunters into the kitchen, ready to offer his help as you stand on your tiptoe to get glasses from the top cabinet. He notices the big jar of dark brown liquid with something floating on the surface.

"What is that?"

"That's what we'll be drinking tonight," you answer with a smile.

Being the gentleman he is, he carries the big jar of mysterious drink to the living room, carefully puts it down on the table, and then sits on the floor, looking at it with curious eyes.

"It's cherry brandy," you inform.

"You made it yourself?" He wildly guesses.

"I am," you answer with a proud smile, opening the jar with all of your strength.

As soon as the lid cracks open, Han is already intoxicated by the sweet, alcohol-tinted aroma that is wafting around the room. He watches as you dip the ladle and meticulously pour it into the glass. He knows now that the things bobbing on the surface are the cherries.

"But how?" He asks in wonder as he observes the drink in his hand.

"It's just cherries, sugar, and vodka, put them in the jar, shake them, put them in the dark for weeks, and voila!" You easily share the recipe and the comprehensive steps for making it.

"No, I mean, how do you have time to do all these?" He asks, utterly befuddled.

Work is draining enough to him that he has no energy left to do other things than rest, and when he gets time, he uses it on something as frivolous as playing video games. That explains why he can't relate to your way of life because how?

You look at him and snort as if his question is inane and the answer is obvious. You get up from the floor as you say, "I'm going to get the cheese."

"Please don't tell me you also made the cheese yourself," he jokingly asks because he already has so much respect for you.

This cherry brandy is dangerous. The cherries mask the taste of the alcohol and all Han can taste is the sweet and tangy flavor of the cherries, but he's aware that he's getting lightheaded with every sip of it. The worst part is he can't stop drinking it.

You're using his drunk state as a chance to tease him and he starts grouching, slurring his words doing it.

"What I'm saying is you always change the topic to me apologizing," he whines with his lips forming a cute pout.

"I'm not," you deny, taking a piece of cheese in between sips.

"I know I am incompetent," he grumbles then hisses at the alcohol burning down his throat.

"I beg to differ. I don't think you're incompetent."

"What then? Incapable? Pathetic? Useless?"

"I think you're just... inexperienced and that's okay," you pause to pick a handful of cherries from the jar with the ladle, "I know that you're sorry and you'll keep trying to be better. I have faith in you, Han."

Han didn't know that he needed to hear that until now. Suddenly, the tightness in his chest loosens, and he feels liberated. He can finally breathe and enjoy his drink with ease.

"Let's impress the chief with our next presentation, okay?" You softly smile at him, raising your glass to invite him for a toast.

Returning the spirit, Han smiles and raises his glass, clinking it with yours as he promises himself to prove that you're not wasting your faith in him.

"Damn! This cherry brandy is so good," he praises with his nose scrunched reacting to the aftertaste.

"Can you do this?" You pop a cherry into your mouth while holding the stem between your thumb and index finger.

"Do what?"

You put the stem into your mouth next and begin moving your mouth, almost like chewing it. After a while, you stick your tongue out, revealing the stem is knotted now. It's impressive, yes, but his eyes are focusing on your lips and how they're glistening wet, probably tastes as sweet as a cherry too.

"That's kind of uh..." he's not sure if what he's about to say is appropriate so he decides not to finish his sentence, "Wow!"

"They say that if you can do this that means you're a good kisser," you remark as you fish out more cherries out of the jar with the ladle.

He hesitates but considering that he's not in a workplace and the alcohol dulls his brain, it can no longer tell what's appropriate or not anymore.

"Are you?"

"Mmh?" You hum in question with a cherry tug between your teeth.

"Are you a good kisser?" He daringly asks.

You bite through the cherry and he can the juice flooding your mouth, you're chewing it as you're looking at him, making him wait for your answer in anticipation.

Then you lean forward on the table, you prop a hand under your chin and slightly tilt your head to the side, "Want to try?"

The way you both execute it is like two teenagers doing seven minutes in heaven. You're both sitting facing each other on the floor with your legs folded under you and awkwardly looking at each other.

All of a sudden, you lean in close until both of your faces are merely inches away from each other. Your lips slowly curl into a smile as you stare into his warm brown eyes.

"You have beautiful eyes."

He can't only handle that much and smiles at your compliment, "Thank you."

"But I need you to close them for now."

"Okay," he obeys your order and closes his eyes.

A minute later, Han just realized what he'd done to himself. With his eyes closed, he can't see what you're doing and he can only wait in anticipation with his heart pitter-patter in his chest.

"Where should I start, mmh?"

He hears you mutter and he knows that it's a rhetorical question, you don't need an answer, you do that just to build his anticipation.

In the next moment, Han feels your breath fanning over his ear, sending goose bumps down his neck, then softly, you press a kiss to his left temple.

“Hmm... where to now?” The words are spoken softly against his skin, each one a caress.

He knows it's yet another rhetorical question but it's enough to send his heart rattling like someone sets firecrackers in his chest.

The tip of your nose grazes his skin as you move lower and you surprise him with a kiss on his cheek, making him close his eyes tightly as impatient sears through him.

As if you hear his thoughts, you land the next kiss on the corner of his mouth, so close yet not exactly where he wants your lips to be.

Then you rest your hand on his jaw, holding him in place as you press an innocent peck on his lips. A tingling sensation bounces around in his chest and a second after you pull away only to sink your lips on his again.

This time, you take the lead, you're showing him how it's done, drawing the kisses out. When your tongue slips between his lips, he goes stock-still. He can't comprehend that your tongue is in his mouth, hot and wet, swirling around his tongue.

This is it. This is kissing and kissing is this good. Oh, man, no one tells him that it's this good!

When you break the kiss, he almost lets out a whimper of complaint from the sudden loss of contact.

"What do you think?" You ask, biting your lower lip but he notices a grin peeking around the edges of your mouth.

"The best kiss I've ever had," he honestly admits.

You let out a soft laugh, "We're not at work. You don't have to suck me up," you say, not entirely buying his words.

"B-but I'm not lying," he assures you with his eyebrows downturn and his dark eyes looking at you.

You take your glass of cherry brandy and have a small sip, "Well, if the only other person you've ever kissed is your mum, then I'll take you on that," you jokingly say.

Something catches in his throat and it's the truth. Han doesn't plan on telling anyone about it or ever for that matter but he deems you're trustworthy enough to keep this secret for him.

"I'm a virgin," he meekly confesses.

The handle of the ladle slips off your fingers and it clatters to the bottom of the jar, "Pardon?"

"I have never had sex with anyone," the hesitation makes his voice quiver at the end of his sentence.

You bring your glass close to your mouth but not drink it, "When I said you're inexperienced, I didn't think that it included the dating area."

Now it feels like he's just told you his defect and his nerves are being replaced by a wave of regret. His eyes wander off, his voice turns small.

"Was that a turn-off?"

You take a cherry from your drink and shove it into your mouth, as you chew on it a sly smirk rises on your face. You lick your lips and then lean forward, "If I say that I'll pop your cherry..."

Your hand reaches for his face and the pressure of your fingertips on his chin makes him face you again, leading him to believe you want eye contact.

"What would you do?"

The tension is climbing fast when you both enter your bedroom, he can't even see his surroundings as both of your lips are locked in a rapturous kiss and you lead him in one direction, the bed.

The moment you have him lying on the bed and you pin him under, his skin gets hot and sensitive, his pulse drumming with eagerness. His cock digs in his slacks, reminding him that it's real and it's not some fantasies he's making up in his head. He is sure he's been turned on before but he can't remember when, even if he did, he's sure it wasn't this much.

From there, it's raining kisses on his lips, and in between the aching presses of your lips, your tongue caresses him, making his skin tingle. When he tries to capture your tongue to take into himself, you evade him. You tease him more by brushing at his lips and dip your tongue inside for a mere second, then quickly withdraw, making him almost groan in frustration.

Okay, he gets it, you're a good kisser so stop playing, he complains in his head.

The way you smile against his lips only means that you know what you're doing and enjoying it. Impulsively, Han decides to seal your mouth with his and touches your tongue with his, an explosion of taste in his mouth, sweet, tangy, tart, so. fucking. addictive.

As he's drunk in your kisses, you run your hand down his body and eventually discover his member poking through the front of his slacks.

"Wow!" You lowly gasp yet continue rubbing his clothed bulge, "You're already this hard?"

Since it's his first time, he doesn't know how to properly react or respond, but he's familiar with this feeling tugging inside him, insecurity.

"I'm sorry," he meekly apologizes.

You gently cup his jaw and stare into his dark, round eyes, "What to be sorry for?"

To assure him, you place a long, lingering kiss on his lips and then sit straddling him on the bed. You untuck the hem of your blouse out of your skirt and bring your fingers to the top button.

"My junior pops a boner on me..." you maintain eye contact with him as you continue undoing all the buttons on your blouse, "Then I can't just look and do nothing."

It's a mystery how he doesn't get blind from seeing your bare upper half body but he knows his eyes are almost out of their sockets the second you take your blouse off, revealing your soft mounds hanging beautifully on your chest.

You're already gorgeous with your clothes on but like this, it's too much for him. He swallows hard as you glide your hand down your sternum and he sees how your fingers lightly graze your nipple as you cup the underside.

You take both of his hands and put them on your breasts, then, you let them go just to see what he's going to do with them.

Nothing. He does nothing but look at his hands holding your breasts and you almost grin at how he looks at them with eyes filled with childlike wonder.

You tilt your head to the side, "So what do you think?"

"They're so soft," he innocently answers.

You hold his hands and move them together, fondling your breasts together with him, you gesture his thumb to play with your hardening bud. Soon, he's doing it himself, kneading on your breasts and once in a while, rubbing his fingers over your nipples.

After a while of letting him touch them, you deem he's ready for more, "Want to kiss them?"

His eyes glance up from your chest to your eyes and then stifle a nod. You scoot a little to the back as he rises from the bed, and this new position brings his mouth close to your breasts.

Sensing his hesitation, you say, "Go ahead. Put your mouth on them."

As he stares at them in silence, Han swallows air, sending his Adam's apple bobbing inside his throat before softly landing his small, pouty lips on the valley of your breasts, a long peck that leaves a searing feeling on your skin and then buries his head in between.

A ragged breath escaped your mouth as you encircled your arms around him, drawing him closer. You tangle your hand in his hair, dark, loose curls, caught between your fingers.

Seconds stretched into minutes and Han hasn't done anything but rests one side of his head on your sternum.

"You're not falling asleep, are you?" You jokingly ask.

"No," his voice is small and low, almost like a whisper.

You reckon he needs some pointers on ways to play with them, you glide your hand to the back of his head and tilt his head slightly upward, just enough to make him look at you.

"How about we put them in your mouth?" You ask with your hand softly scratching the tendrils of hair on the nape of his neck.

You lead him by placing your hand on his jaw and with your thumb, you trace his lower lip, then slowly, you part his mouth open with it. You let him do the rest and he catches up fast, he opens his mouth a little wider and takes your ample flesh, then closes his mouth around it.

Han is following his instincts, he tightens his grip around you and pulls you closer so he can feast on you. He has your breasts in his face, his mouth, rolling on his tongue. He can play with them all day.

As you gaze down at your chest, you see his lips wrapped around your nipple and his hand kneading on the other, both stimulations sending you twist and arch your back, your ass making friction on his crotch.

"You like them, huh?"

Without detaching his mouth from your nipple, he answers, "I like this."

He moves his mouth to the other nipple and sucks on it, "and this."

It's such an erotic sight that you feel a tingle down there. You bring your hands to the side of your breasts and push them to the middle so he can suck them all at once.

Han doesn't need more pointers, he knows what he wants and going for it. More importantly, he knows this is no fantasy playing in his head. This moment, you, and his undeniable attraction to you are all real.

He's slowly yet surely claiming your body in any way he can, he drags his lips up your throat, along your jaw, back toward your mouth, kissing you like it's his lifeline and he's hanging on a thin thread.

A murmuring sound hums in your throat as you kiss him back while your hands go down his back, taking the tail of his shirt out of his slacks. You draw your hands back to the front, unbuttoning his shirt and your patience wears thin as you get to the last one, you end up ripping it open.

A sigh escapes your mouth as you place your hand on his bare chest, but it's the swell of his chest muscles that distracts you from your exploration. You never touch hard rounded flesh like this before and his skin is searing hot under your fingertips. Gosh! You want to touch him all over.

As you sink your mouth into his again, you run your greedy hands over his arms, his chest, and his abs. You also admire his exceptional shoulders-to-waist ratio.

On the other hand, Han isn't prepared when you stroke over the fly of his pants, a jolt of pleasure coursed through him and his cock twitches in excitement, and a hoarse groan falls out of his mouth. His mind goes haywire as you unbutton and unzip his slacks, then you withdraw the hard length of his cock. He's almost losing it when your eyes go dark with so much want.

"Oh, so hot," you breathlessly gasp as you wrap your fingers around his swelling member, "mmh... so hard for me."

It's obvious that you have the experience, you seem to know where to touch, what would please him the most, the rhythm he prefers, and know when to pick up the pumping of your hand around his length.

"Am I doing good?" You casually ask, acting like you don't see the effect of your stimulations on him.

"Good," his voice is trembling with so much intensity.

As much as he likes it, he doesn't want to risk coming all over your palm, he wants to explore more of you and more ways to do that to you.

"Want... to... touch you," That's all he can mutter after forcing his brain to form a coherent sentence.

"Want to touch me?"

"Yes."

"Where?"

"There," he lowly whispers that he doubts you can hear it.

You give him a haste kiss before answering his request by sitting on your knees, you swiftly undo the hook fastening at the side of your skirt and then ease the zipper over the sweet curve of your hip. Instead of sitting back down, you get off his lap and slowly lay yourself down on the bed. You raise your hips to lower the skirt down and then out of your legs.

"Now, come here," You're patting the space next to you.

It puts him in a trance seeing you lying naked on the bed with only your white underwear on, the fabric is so flimsy it leaves nothing to the imagination.

After a struggling minute, his brain finally manages to process your command, he lays next to you. You waste no time but gently hold his chin, then bring his head close for a kiss.

Maybe it's because you're too good at this that makes Han feels he needs to rise to the level. He does more than a kiss, he licks, he nibbles at your lips, and his tongue daringly invades your mouth to get as much of that sweet taste of you.

A hand finds him and you're taking it with you, placing it on you, guiding him to where you like to be touched. Your neck, across your chest, the underside of your breasts, around the navel and you keep leading him south, not stopping until his hand meets your clothed sex.

"It's wet," he blurts out as he feels the dampness of your underwear against his palm.

"It's even wetter underneath," you mutter against his lips.

Curiosity gets the best of him, he checks right away to see if what you said is true. He slips his hand under the fabric and immediately gets the answer. You're drenched and it gets all over his fingers the more he touches you.

"Oh, my God..." you arch your back against his hand, offering more of you to touch.

He feels encouraged to please you more, he pulls your underwear to the side and slips one finger into you. Low murmurs tumble from your lips and it tells him that this is what you want. He works a second finger in, and the stretching sensation has your head falling back and your heels dug into the bed.

"Curl them," you instruct as you push into penetration.

Han doesn't obey your words right away, he allows his fingers to ease in and out, feeling you out and catching you off guard, he curls his fingers inside you, startling a breathless gasp from you.

With your eyes closed, you lick your lips and then ask, “Are you sure it's your first time?"

His insecurity kicks in again as you show sheer doubt in your question, “What do you mean by that?”

You open your eyes and slyly smile at him, “It means so far you’re very good at it.”

The moment he hears that his insecurity turns into confidence. He applies slow, measured movements and does what he thinks would please you, using your lewd noises as the guide. The motions seem to calm you even as they put you on edge.

Your hand hikes its way up to his arm then nestles in his tousled hair, "My, my! You really are a capable boy when you try," you praise with dazed eyes and a sly grin.

This should offend him but it does nothing but stroke his ego in the best way. Other than that, he just wants to please you more and more even though he has no idea how. The better question is: what to do next?

"Do you mind taking my underwear off for me?"

He doesn't answer but hurriedly gets himself to do it, fingers tugging at the waistband of your underwear, then slowly, pulling it down your legs. The scrape of his nails on your skin sends a shudder down your spine.

"There you go!" You delightfully exclaim once the underwear is off of you.

You get comfortable on the bed, propping an elbow on the mattress as you lie slightly to the side, "Now, take your clothes off."

He's just realized now that his shirt is still loosely draped around his shoulders and his slacks are bunched around his thighs with his hard-on hanging out of his boxer.

With naughty eyes, you watch as he removes the pieces of clothing until there's none left but miles of miles of honey skin. You run one hand down your front then part your legs open, you don't seem to be embarrassed touching yourself in front of him and he finds that very sexy.

Little does he know, what you're about to do next is far sexier.

You put your hands on the back of your knees and then slowly, you pull them apart, exposing your glistening wet core to him.

Han admits that he hasn't seen enough to know but he's sure he's looking at one of the prettiest pussy he's ever seen, glistening wet, pulsating with so much desire, and so damn inviting. Looking at it makes him swallow air, hard.

He wants to play it cool but he fails at it, he wants you so much, he becomes this one big ache of wanting.

As he's about to lower himself on you, you block him from coming closer with your hand on his chest, "Oh, we almost forgot the condom."

You twist your body to the side, hand reaching for the handle of your bedside drawer and pull it open. To cut time, he grabs it for you from a box full of condoms inside the drawer.

"Want me to put it on?" You offer.

"Yes," he shortly answers, not caring if he sounds so eager.

You tear through the foil wrapper and take out the rubber, you give his length a gentle stroke before rolling the rubber down, then you pinch the end to make room for his completion.

You lay back on the bed, head resting on the pillow and a smile lingering on your face, showing him that you're comfortable enough to continue.

"You know what to do next," you say as you rub your hand up and down his forearm.

As he hesitates, you wrap your hand around his cock and rub it between your folds, milking more essence to prepare you for penetration. You're getting impatient for him but you let him decide when to enter you.

After a while, Han finally aligns his cock to your entrance, and with a shallow breath, he pushes just enough until his tip disappeared inside you.

Oh, the face he makes as he enters you, it's priceless.

"I can take a little more," you assure him with fingers lightly scraping the skin of his arms.

"I just—" he bites back a groan and tugs his lower lips between his teeth, "Give me a moment. This is my first time."

As you lay underneath and hear that, you find him hot and cute at the same time, butterflies explode in your stomach and fly around in amok.

"Kiss me," you sweetly ask, bringing his head close with your hand holding his chin.

Han fulfills your wish, lowering his mouth on you again as you wrap your arms around him. As he calms down from the rising tension, you bring your hands down to his hips and nudge him to push more into you.

"Oh..." his groan is hoarse and raw, spilling into your open mouth.

"I want all of you inside me," you whine against his lips.

Conveniently, what you want aligns with what he wants, he pushes the rest of his length inside you until he's fully sheathed in your warm, velvety walls.

A shaky breath escapes his mouth and he buries his head in your neck, you can hear every shudder of his breath, getting heavier with each passing second.

The two of you savor the moment—not speaking, not moving, not doing anything, just being with someone. The room is so quiet you hear the cars driving by outside and the occasional sounds of the wind-chime from the living room.

With a passionate kiss on your lips, he begins moving, he withdraws then thrusts, and the pace turns quick all of a sudden. You understand that this is his first time but he can't fully enjoy it when he's going at a light speed in a second.

"Hey, slow down," You calmly say with a soft peck on his lips and jaw, "don't rush."

He abruptly stops moving for a second and lets out a low sigh, "Sorry, I can't help myself."

Why he has to be this cute in a heating moment like this? You can't help but smile and peck his small lips again. You keep your hand on his neck, feeling the blood rushing in his veins.

"This is our first time," you say, "I want it to be special."

"Okay," he says with repeated nods.

Our first time. That sounds like you're hinting that this will be the first of many. Han feels a flutter all over his body hearing that.

Our first time, he replays it in the back of his head for his own amusement.

Keeping your words in mind, he continues where he left off, thrusting into you again at a moderate speed until he finds his pace. You give him the closeness he seeks by spreading your legs wider and wrapping them around his dainty waist.

In between kisses and moans, you tenderly gaze into his eyes and ask, "So, how do I feel?"

He forces his brain to try and compute words, "You feel hot... slippery and tight."

He pauses to clear his throat and adds, "You feel so good."

"I know," You softly smile and land a peck on his lips, "You feel so good inside me too."

Gosh! If he knew that sex felt this good, he would have done it sooner. He believes that it's all because of you. There's no guarantee that it would feel this good with someone else.

The way you keep clenching tighter around him means that he's doing well but on the other hand, it brings him closer to the edge. How long does sex usually last? He doesn't know but it seems like he can't hold himself back anymore.

"I'm sorry but I think I'm about to come," he says through his gritted teeth.

You hastily kiss his lips, "do you want to cum, mmh?"

Now that you asked him, he doesn't feel good about saying yes because you seem like you still want to continue. He changes his mind, convincing himself he can hold back a little longer.

"No, I can't— I shouldn't," he mutters while shaking his head.

"You hold back so much despite it being your first time," you say with a sly smile.

You put your arms around his shoulders, clinging to him, and swiftly, you roll him to the side, forcing him to lay back on the bed while you get on top of him.

"Alright then..." you sigh as you run both hands down his chest, "Try not to come as hard as you can."

Han should've taken your warning seriously. He gaps so loudly as you start rolling your hips against him, back and forth, then in circular motions, painstakingly slow. He's hopelessly grasping at the last shred of sanity left in him.

It's impossible to hold back anymore when you're fucking him good and he's watching you enjoying it with your breasts bouncing along to the slightest of movement, your nails clawing at his chest and the sexiest part of all is that blissful smile plastered on your face.

For a timeless moment, Han hovers on the brink, breathless, until the orgasm crashes over him and he grips at your thighs as you drive into him relentlessly. He hasn't finished with his orgasm yet he can feel your muscles fluttering around him and clamping him down.

With a hoarse groan, you surge into him one last time and come around him, then slowly, you lower your shaking body to the bed.

Without thinking, Han holds you close like you are his. He puts his arms around you and you burrow your head into the crook of his neck as you hold him back.

"Congratulations!" You whisper.

"Mmh?" He asks with dazed eyes.

"Your cherry has been popped!"

Han jolts awake the next morning, he's seeing you sleeping next to him, in your room and the sun is shining so brightly outside. The first thought that comes to his mind is he's late for work and panicked.

He rises from the bed and gasps, "Oh, God! Did I oversleep?!"

You put your hand on his chest and pull him to lay back on the bed, "It's Saturday," you sleepily croak.

"Oh? Right..." His panic turns into embarrassment and he blames his body clock for that.

You scoot close to his side and put your arm across his chest, fingertips lightly trailing his collarbone. It feels nice, and snug. Why would he try to leave this heavenly feeling of lazing on the bed with you?

But he's aware that he should also consider that you might want your personal space back and he doesn't want to overstay his visit.

"I uhm... I probably should go," he says yet not moving an inch.

He hears you draw a breath then drop your hand to cup his jaw, "Okay."

Again, Han remains still on the bed, lying so close next to you and in your warm embrace. You suddenly lift your head and roll to the side, overlapping his body with yours.

"Before you leave, want to shower with me first?"

This is unexpected but he's not complaining at all. He reminds himself to keep calm and try to come up with a playful response.

"So we can have sex again?"

You crack a laugh at that and rest your chin on his chest, you gently tap his cheek with your index finger, "Now that you're no longer a virgin, you think you're so hot, huh?"

It hasn't completely sunk into him that he had sex for the first time last night and the reminder makes his heart flutter.

He keeps his cool and nonchalantly shrugs, "Just a little."

As much as he tries his best to resist it, Han keeps following you with his eyes.

Yes, he's aware of how creepy it is and he wants to act normal, it makes it obvious that he feels something toward you.

Or rather, why are you able to act normal about this?

He admits that he likes that part about you, you are aware that this is a workplace and there shouldn't be personal business involved within.

However, Han can't help but wonder if he's the only one still thinking about that night.

Now that he thinks about it, you and him never really agreed on what to call this relationship, is it just casual or do you want to take it further, and is not talking about it an adult thing to do?

"Ugh, I don't know," he doesn't mean to let it out loud but thankfully, no one is there to hear it.

His eyes hovering over you again, he slightly swivels his office chair to the side and watches you checking files from one of your juniors. He finds it attractive that you have a crease between your eyebrows whenever you're focused on something and the way you flip the page then hold it between your fingers, oh, it does something to him.

"It looks good," you say as you put the files back, "You can proceed with this one."

Your junior takes the file back from you and holds it in front of her as she asks, "Will you come to our company dinner tomorrow night?"

You don't even consider it but answer right away, "Yes, sure, I'll be there."

Your junior responds with a warm smile, "That's great!"

After your junior leaves, you collect some files from your desk, get up, and bring them with you as you make your way toward his desk.

He doesn't know why but he shoots up from his chair as if he gets caught doing something. You stop by his desk and you have no idea how thankful he is, imagine if you walked past his desk, he would be so fucking embarrassed.

"Han, these are the documents for the next meeting," you say, showing him the files you're holding, "Can you organize them for me?"

"Absolutely!" He answers without a beat.

He thinks you have nothing else to do for him but you linger by his side and then slowly lean into his side while keeping the files open, covering half of your faces.

"Isn't the day after tomorrow is your birthday?" You ask.

His breath hitches either from the proximity or the fact that you know about this birthday, "Yes. How do you know?"

"Oh, well..." You slightly shrug instead of telling him the answer.

Taking him by surprise, you lean in closer and then place a soft kiss on his cheek. His breath catches in his throat and he feels a hiccup coming. He looks around to see if anyone saw that but the official remains lively as usual.

"What's that for?" He manages to ask while holding his cheek as if he is trying to hide the mark even though there is nothing but the searing feeling it leaves on his skin.

"An early birthday present," you simply answer with a smile then walk back to your desk.

Han used to dread company dinner because it requires him to drink and he's bad at drinking.

The first round is at a barbecue place, the drinking is moderate, and he can slow down the drinking by shoving food in between.

On the second round, they're going for a karaoke bar and that's when it gets tricky, someone will somehow notice if he hasn't drunk enough and force him to get on their level. If only they had any ideas that he'd be likely blacked out from drinking as much as them.

By the time the second round ends, Han finds himself stumbling on his way out of the karaoke bar. He's not drunk but he knows he's one drink away from it. Someone grabs his arm and without looking, he knows that it's you. No one likes to link their arms with him, except you.

"Hey, do you want to get out of here?" You keep your voice low to not let anyone else hear it.

"Yes," he answers without thinking and frankly, you can take him anywhere you want.

"Round three! Let's go!" The team manager shouts, half slurring his words and leading everyone to go.

"But–but how about...?" He stutters, pointing at their co-workers walking away and he's afraid that the two of you might get in trouble for ditching everyone else.

"Don't worry about it," you assure him, walking to the other way of where everyone else is going and at the end of the street, you hail a taxi.

It's obvious that he doesn't know where you're taking him until you tell the taxi driver to pull over and he steps out of the taxi, finding himself at the front of a hotel.

He follows you as you walk across the lobby, coming toward the reception to check in for a stay. The process only takes a few minutes and you get handed a keycard.

He can simply ask you why you're taking him here but it would be so naive of him, right? The most important thing is he likes where this is going.

Arrive at your floor, you lead the way to the room and even though he's still feeling a little lightheaded, his eyes can't seem to look away from watching your back figure as you walk in front of him with your hips swaying side to side and that pencil you always wear to work does nothing but accentuate the shape of your—

"I'm sorry, Han," you suddenly apologize as you walk up to a door and he guesses it must be the room you're assigned to.

"Yes?" He asks, confounded.

Instead of getting into the room first, you turn around on your feet and stand with your back facing the door while holding the keycard in your hands.

"You see I don't really know what you'd like for your birthday so..." your voice turns lower the more you speak but it's the soft gaze and the way you're looking at him through your lashes that suddenly makes it hard to breathe.

"I was thinking we could go shopping together but I can't help myself."

There's no physical contact whatsoever but he gets hot all over, he licks his lips as his eyes flick to your lips that tempted him to kiss.

"I've been thinking about being alone with you and all the things we could do together."

He is right to not ask the question but God, he likes the answer to it.

"So... will this do?" You ask, your eyes filled with wild, naughty glints.

Instead of answering, he takes the keycard from your hand and puts it close to the scanner on the handle of the door, it automatically clicks open.

Now, you know the answer. He couldn't ask for a better birthday present than what's going to happen in this hotel room.

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#stray kids smut #skz smut #han smut #han jisung smut #han x reader #skz x reader #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #skz fics #skz fanfics #kpop smut #kpop fics #kpop fanfics #seospicy smut

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miguelsslvt · 1 year ago

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ex nerd! scientist! miguel o'hara x slutty! reader

part two here!

word count: 745

TW: smut, nsfw, d/s themes, mentions of pet play.

A/N: THIS IS INSPIRED BY @nymphomatique SO PLS CHECK THEIR ONE OUT!! their drabble rlly inspired me so i thought maybe i could add a little twist;) welcome to the club!

back in your college days, you were.. promiscuous, some would say. well, you were the biggest slut on campus. if your body count didn't say it all, then the rumours sure did.

you took chemistry, maths, physics and biology. you wanted to be a physics scientist, partially because of the thought of there being lots and lots of different universes, but mostly because the pay was brilliant.

miguel o'hara was your 'pet' back in your college days, per-say.

you used him for your homework, and in exchange you would fuck him, give him head, handjobs, you name it. you took miguel's virginity, and every bit of innocence he had left. he was totally smitten by you. i mean, a pretty, popular girl giving him attention no one ever did? sign him up.

miguel was the biggest loser you knew back then. he wasn't the most muscly, and he had those ridiculous black square glasses, and his outfits were shocking. he had a slight lisp due to his late braces, and his hair was far too long and he clearly struggled to maintain it. to keep it blunt, he wasn't cool at all. he was a loser, a simp, and a goody two-shoes. perfect as your little pet.

it wasn't until after graduation did you stop your little encounters. after leaving college, you blocked his number and left campus on the same day. you thought you'd never have to see that nerdy freak again. well, that's what they all say, right?

that was until you finally got a job at ALCHEMAX. you were a 'technological support scientist', which sounded smart but really all you got to do was watch all the better scientists do tests. you didn't mind, it did more then just pay your bills. hell, with the checks you're bringing in you could probably buy a new car in a few months!

you thought things were all sunshine and rainbows, until the thunder walked in. it's funny though, you didn't realise thunder looked like 6'9 tall and 310 pound of pure muscle and attractiveness. his braces were gone, his hair more clean and cut a little shorter, and his glasses just resting on top of his head, but you knew exactly who he was.

'm-miguel o'hara?!' you said, shocked. he turned around swiftly, looking down at you, before his eyes widened. 'y/n l/n?' he said, surprised. you both had become blushing messes. well, his glow up sure came after only 3 years.

'you.. work here?' you asked, absolutely awe-struck. 'i.. do. i am a technological scientist here. you work here too? why haven't i ever seen you around before?' he asked, intriuged. 'i-it's my first day here. you.. matured.' you said, clearly checking him out.

the man smirked. he actually smirked. the man who would whimper, begging to just get off on your shoe, smirked at you like he was in control. 'and you look as gorgeous as 3 years ago.'

your heart stopped. who was this man? this muscular, defined, confident, completely self aware man.. this wasn't miguel. there was no way.

'you..you're very different, miguel.' you said, a blushing mess. he chuckled, putting some latex gloves on. fuck, even his hands were attractive. 'well alot happens to a guy.' he says smoothly, his voice deeper. god this was going to be hard.

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎

that very night, you were spread out on the bed, and you didn't recognise the man above you.

3 years ago, a scrawny desperate nerdy little boy was on his knees, as if you were a goddess. and now, that very man was on top of you, kissing your neck so skilfully, as if he's done this for years. his thrusts had rhythm, as he grinded along your g spot with ease, you let out a gasp and a breathy moan, as he shushed you.

'sh, bonita.. you've changed. where's that dominatrix you were back in college days? why are you so.. obedient?~' he whispered in your ear, as you moaned again.

'i-i think i-it's y-you that changed, m-miguel..' you breathily said in response, as he chuckled. 'oh no, sweetheart, i'm still the same loser that was begging on his knees for you. just now, i've learnt how to please you as well as me.' he said in response, his hands moving down from your breasts to your hips, his cock deep inside you as he grinded his hips as you felt every inch.

god, is this heaven?

♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara smut #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel smut #miguel spiderverse #smut #across the spiderverse #fem reader #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman atsv #2099 #miguel x you #miguel o'hara x fem!reader

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delphi-shield · 4 months ago

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connection buffering . . . ↺

di!leon x reader - long-distance relationship - part 2

previous part

you weren't bluffing.

you'd made the sign. wrote his name in big block letters, too confident in how you wrote the first half of his name. the 'EDY' crowds together at the end. 'E' shoves 'D' close to the end, 'Y' drawn paper thin and cocked to the side, threatening to topple off the edge of the paper. leon finds he's not too tired to laugh.

he had the whole goddamn flight to figure out what to say to you, but when he sees you standing there with that sign in your hand, scanning the crowd for a man you expect to be two inches taller, it all flushes out of him to make room for the queasy feeling in his gut. when you finally spot him (thank god; the words had gotten lodged in his throat, your name running around his mind again, again, again, lodged so deep in the crevices that he couldn't pry it free and force it out his mouth) your smile nearly blinds him. he shields his eyes with a hand, watches you bounce on the balls of your feet.

he flicks your sign with a finger. the only words that make it past the lump in his throat are, "messed up the kerning, huh?"

you tip your head, puppy-dog cute. more adorable in person. "the what?"

"kerning." silence. you shake your head a little, blank look in your eye. leon tries to swallow, feels barbs jab into his throat. ten minutes on the ground and he's fucking up already. his gut turns. he tries to blame it on airplane peanuts. "the space between the letters."

he should get back on the plane. if he flashes his badge and declares it official business they have to let him on, right? brass wouldn't be happy with him, but what are they going to do? he's leon fucking kenn--

you laugh and his thoughts screech to a halt, plane crash on the concourse. footsteps pound past him - or maybe that's his heartbeat in his ears. your laugh is prettier in person, too.

"okay, all right." your face lights up, eyes squished to make room for your smile. "why do you know that?"

mentally, he flips through a rolodex of excuses. he moonlighted as a graphic designer (false), he was really into fonts (no strong opinions, really), it's classified (outright lie). he settles for the truth, shrugging.

"late night wikipedia dive."

you laugh again. his heart is a bird, fluttering in his chest, battering itself against his ribs to get to you. what the hell is wrong with him? he hadn't felt like this in years, thought he wasn't supposed to feel like this anymore. when you were an adult you grew out of this sort of giddiness. he'd choked it down every time he'd checked his phone under the table at an intelligence meeting, dismissed it as heartburn. he's supposed to want. it's supposed to be a blaze that swallows him up. confident and bold and all-consuming. not fidgety and desperate.

he's not anxious. he's a grown man. he's met presidents, plural. he doesn't get nervous meeting people, even if they're stunning, even if his hands twitch to hold theirs.

does he hug you? kiss you? slip his hand into your back pocket and guide you out of the terminal, lead you blindly to a car that isn't his, take you to an apartment he's only ever seen portions of on a 15 inch screen, ask what he can make you for dinner in your own home? that's what he wants. skip over all of this and slide right into familiarity, fly right past all the work it takes to get there. you've done the leg work, right? you know how you feel about each other. he's here. that says enough, doesn't it?

he's eternally grateful that you reach through his thoughts and pull him into a hug. your face stuffs into his shoulder, words muffled. "i'm so glad you're here."

you inhale deeply and he swears his heart does a backflip. jesus, he needs to get a physical. this can't be normal.

it's you who loops your arm with his, you who tugs him into motion. you rattle off questions that he answers as best he can. it feels like drowning, like he can barely keep his head above water. his flight was fine, thanks for asking. no, he didn't get any sleep. he never sleeps on planes. it's a long story. he didn't need a nap, but yeah, he could go for a coffee.

you know this great place, you reassure him. really low-key. he treads water in the parking garage while you dig for your keys. you drop them - twice - and he wonders if you're struggling to stay at the surface, too.

as a last act before sinking into the passenger seat, he rescues your sign from the trash, folding it neatly and tucking it into his pocket.

he looks up from buckling his seat belt, beckoned by the way you call his name. he's still smiling when you cup his cheeks and kiss him.

by day two, he's decided you need a new apartment. he hasn't told you that yet, figures it comes off too pushy, but he would fly back down to help you move if you wanted. (if he thinks it hard enough, won't you ask him to?)

don't misunderstand - he likes what you've done with the place. honest to god, you're a miracle worker with decor. you could really shape his place up.

it's just that your front door is less than secure. your locks are ran through. it would take him less than a minute to break in. he doesn't even want to think about your windows. other than being drafty, they're just another completely unsecured access point.

you'd invited him to sleep in your bed the first night, and he had every intention of doing so. he'd just passed out on the couch before he had the chance. leon had woken with a pillow stuffed under his head, thick, handmade blanket tucked over him. it was sweet. really.

but it wasn't the same as sleeping next to you.

leon has every intention of sleeping in your bed that night. you'd filled the day with a tour of your city, pointing out your favorite and least favorite spots, telling stories that let him imagine the streets as a stage, you as the star, top billing as far as he's concerned. everything had been optional, as you'd feverishly reassured him after every stop. he could change the itinerary with one word. the only mandatory stop had been lunch with your friends. a good sign, he thinks. if you're confident enough to introduce him to the people in your life, then you see this going somewhere, right?

by the time you hit your last stop, it feels like he's emerged from a war zone. leon would know. he's been run ragged on back to back operations before, but this - the pressure of trying to be right for you, to show you who he is, waiting on pins and needles for you to sour on him and push back from the closeness he craves - this is truly exhausting.

you must feel it too, offering to pick up dinner on your way home in lieu of cooking. he waves away apologies, reaches past you to hand the cashier at taco bell his card when you try to pay. the food is gone by the time you pull your car into the parking lot.

both of you have the same idea. you're just as worn out as he is (makes him wonder if you're doing the same thing, all anxious energy, making sure to put your best foot forward, always stumbling and falling into a better impression than the one you set out to make) and bed comes naturally to mind. he slips into the side closest to the door and you stop him immediately, voice teasing.

"uh, that's my side." you poke at his ribs. the awkwardness had melted over the course of the day together. you were playful, eyes bright and laugh loud. touch came easy between you now, both playful and lingering. the comfort that had been stirred up and tossed into disarray by physical proximity had settled back in.

leon's eyes flit to the door over your shoulder. it's not a big deal, he tells himself. the odds of something happening were astronomically low.

but he knows his luck with astronomically low odds. one in a million is too risky. he's got to be closer to the door, won't be able to sleep if he's not. his hands wrap around your waist, urging you on top of him. he doesn't miss the way you stiffen, the momentary hitch of your breath, but you let yourself get swept along all the same, drape yourself over him as he guides you to.

"just sleep like this." leon shifts lower to make more space for you. he presses a kiss to your head.

it takes longer than he expected for you to relax. slowly, when his hands still at your back and his breathing evens out, your limbs loosen. your weight thickens atop him, pressing him further into the mattress. it's all he can do to remind himself that he's tired, that starting something now would lead nowhere fast.

leon stays awake until he's certain you're out cold. the door remains unbreached, your home still safe. he can't bring himself to regret his caution.

when he's finally able to sleep, he sleeps hard. he wakes to your fingers carding through his hair, his cheek cushioned against your chest, completely flipped around during the night. it's the best night he's had in years.

on day three, leon wonders if he should be more obvious.

he's been putting out all the signs, carefully curated his touch to be lingering, to make you burn for more, but each time you settle against him and offer up a contented "this is nice."

does there need to be a neon sign draped around his neck that says "take me for a spin", arrow blinking down toward his crotch? you'd let him press against your back during an afternoon nap, knee wedged between your legs, arm curled around your stomach to keep you next to him. he woke from dreams where he was bolder, where he wasn't afraid of losing you with that lingering confidence, pressed kisses to the back of your neck until that gauzy empowerment lifted.

hell, he'd woken up that morning laying half on top of you, his head nestled in the valley of your chest. you'd pet his hair til he woke from nuzzling your tits in his sleep.

he abandons subtlety during the credit crawl of eight-legged freaks, a 'classic' you had insisted on making him watch. (you'd laughed when he had commented he could keep you safe in the event of giant spiders. he hadn't been joking, but he still hasn't grown tired of hearing you laugh.)

"hey," he asks, hand curling around your thigh. his thumb smooths an arc across your skin, traces the path again and again. "do you wanna..?"

smooth, kennedy.

you look over at him with that same puppy-dog confusion that he's growing familiar with. instead of moving his hand, you draw your legs up and lay them over his lap. how the fuck is he supposed to interpret that?

"do i wanna..?" you parrot back, drawing the words out into the form of a question.

leon hates himself. he wishes he could back out of this. he clears his throat. how the hell do people broach this topic smoothly? he searches for the words, the silence stretching a little too long for comfort. finally, he says the first thing he can.

"like, sex."

real mature, kennedy, he thinks. he wishes he could backpedal, take it all back. he's certain your face warms. before he can issue a take down for his words, (maybe cut out his stupid goddamn vocal cords, if he has the time) you fumble out, "oh. like- right now? uh, i mean, do you want to?"

continuing with the maturity, he turns it back on you.

"i asked you first."

"i don't not want to."

leon shakes his head. his hand cups your ankle. "i really only take 'yeah' or 'hell yeah'."

"i just didn't think giant spiders got you in the mood."

"hey, the more legs the better."

leon knows deflection when he hears it. he's the reigning champ, after all, could play this game with you all day. but he has mercy; he chuckles, lets you get away with it and grabs the remote, declaring it's his turn to pick another movie since your choice was a mood killer.

later that night, curled up in bed with a video playing mindlessly from your tablet, you turn around to face him. he widens his arms to accommodate the movement, circles them tighter once you settle in.

"you're not mad?" you ask, pressing your face into his chest, already hiding from the answer.

"about what?"

"y'know."

"spell it out for me, sweetheart."

he can feel your breath puff against his chest, an exasperated huff. people have done this same thing to him time and time again. he always hated it, being forced to be forthcoming and earnest. (vulnerable, some people call it, but that always made him feel like a wounded bird.) now that he's on the other side, he sort of sees the appeal.

"'cause i don't wanna have sex yet."

there's a 'yet'. that's promising. he saves that little victory for later. his hand rubs slowly, reverently across the planes of your back.

he knows what he's got to say. he knows that he means it. putting the words to it is different. he needs you to understand, has to do this right.

"i didn't come all this way just to hook up."

you hum. "but you still want to."

christ, he's got to man up and say it.

"of course i do." you burrow closer to him, hands fisting against his side. he taps your back firmly. "hey. i'm not finished. i'm attracted to you, okay? like, really attracted to you. it's not- it's not just physical. i want to see if we can make this work. if what we had on the phone was real."

"is it?"

"yeah. i think so."

"sex isn't important to you?"

"it is. it's just not more important to me than you."

you pull your face from his chest, look up at him with big wet eyes. he brushes the backs of his fingers against your cheek tenderly, afraid you'll splinter and those tears will cascade down if he's anything but gentle.

"i think so, too."

you curl back into him, your touch melting from desperate to serene. leon can't help but feel accomplished - as though he's threaded the needle perfectly, cut the right wire just before the clock hit zero. gradually, his breathing falls into step with yours.

"besides," he murmurs, half-asleep. he drops a kiss against the top of your head. "your walls are thin. i don't want you catching a noise complaint."

day four is a glimpse of the life he could have, but it makes him realize what he needs to do to obtain it. the sickly feeling pools in his stomach, leaves him picking at the dinner you made. it's good, he swears. then the lie - just all the travel catching up to him.

he knows by day five that he's got to tell you everything. it's no longer a want - he needs you in his life. he's resolved to come clean.

he nearly does it over breakfast. you set his coffee in front of him, muss his hair before you take your own seat, and it almost comes spilling out onto the table.

i work in national security. i'm a federal agent. there's so much i can't tell you, but it's dangerous. god, it's dangerous. there's so much blood on my hands. it doesn't scrub off but i'm worried it will stain your skin. i think i could love you, if you'll let me. please don't say it back.

"plans today?" he says instead, sipping his coffee.

maybe tomorrow.

day six leaves him melancholy.

you'd insisted that today was for him. whatever he wanted, you would accommodate.

leon worries that his answer is boring. he wants a day in with you. an imitation of what it could be like to come home to this. the idle sounds of you milling about the house could lull him to sleep if it weren't for the words lodged in his throat.

you were doing the laundry. not yours, not his, but the, the definite article that's never felt intimate until that very moment. it silenced him to hear you refer to it that way. he's so tired of reading into every word you say, clinging onto every nuance. he'd forgotten how exhausting this stage of a relationship is. you couldn't send him home with dirty clothes, you explained, and he had no argument against that. his eyes traced after you as you puttered around, busying yourself with tidying. you're so at home. of course you are. it's your apartment. but he wants that. he wants to lift you from this place and into his own home, to watch you make yourself at home and busy yourself with the mundane.

he's got to tell you today. he can't do it over text. it's wrong.

when you finally settle down next to him on the couch, drawing a blanket into your lap, you breach the topic gently, give him a chance to do it himself. leon doesn't realize how obvious he is when he gets that look on his face, all forlorn as if he'd collapsed onto a fainting couch, hand over the back of his forehead. drama queen.

"what's up?" you ask, sitting close - but infuriatingly distant, not quite touching him yet.

"nothing. just looking at you."

bless you for trying to make it easy on him. it's always been like pulling teeth to get him to talk. he's trained to resist torture and coercion, should know better than to melt under a gentle hand or the way your body fits against his side.

you hum softly, disbelieving. so that's it, then. the silence, the 'i'm respecting your distance until you break' tactics. damn, you're good. leon takes a deep breath, chest aching with the weight of what he has to say. now or never.

"look- i'm not who you think i am."

you don't miss a beat. "in what way?"

he has to force the words out. he's acutely aware that this could ruin everything. you could kick him out. block his number, never speak to him again. good. it was safer that way. you deserved a normal life.

"i lied to you. about my work."

"yeah, i know."

"i work in security. national security."

"leon. i know."

his brain reels back a few steps, trying to process your words.

"you know?" he repeats, almost offended. how could you know? was this a set up?

you pull your phone from your pocket, tapping a quick query in. you turn the phone to him. article after article, a few interviews pinned to the top. every link is purple, clicked on and read through. the one that draws his eye is tucked at the bottom of the screen, makes his skin crawl to remember.

KENNEDY, HARPER CLEARED OF CHARGES

"i googled you." you set your phone down on the coffee table.

"and you still let me into your house?" he was serious, but you laugh. leon's brow pinches. "how long?"

you shrug, as if this conversation is about the laundry. "a couple months. ever since you told me your last name."

"months? why didn't you say anything?"

"i was hoping you'd tell me yourself. and you did, sort of."

his mind is still reeling. the drama of it all had his wound up tight. where does he put that energy?

he must look as thrown-off as he feels, because you chuckle, sweep the hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"i get why you don't tell people upfront. just don't hide stuff like that from me again, okay? seriously. i'll be mad."

it's more grace than he deserves. your acceptance churns his stomach. is there another meaning behind your words, a resentment coiling in the pit of your stomach?

you crack open your book and lean against his side. he settles his arm around you, moving slow, scared to frighten you away. only one chapter in, you pass him your phone, a take-out app order, asking what he wants. if you're mad, you hide it well.

day seven is a funerary procession. you help him scour your apartment for things he may have left behind, packing them neatly in his suitcase-shaped coffin. it's amazing how his things had flooded into your apartment during the short course of his visit. he had spread out, made himself comfortable. part of it had been testing how his belongings felt next to yours, how it all fit - the final test he had constructed in his mind. you'd passed that with flying colors, clearly. he's lost track of a shirt somewhere along the way, but he isn't concerned about it. he'll be back. he can look for it another time.

both of you linger at your front door. excuses are myriad, flowing from both sides. reasons to double back, reasons to keep his hand on your waist, your fingers in his hair, your lips on his.

but eventually the time becomes too urgent, the threat of missing his flight too real. he'd joked in the car that if he didn't turn up for work they might just send a helicopter to pick him up instead, expecting a laugh. you only smile, a wry twist of your lips that fades too quickly. you reach for your sunglasses and shove them on. the air is tense by the time you pull into the parking garage, cherry scented car freshener cloying.

“you gonna cry?” he teases.

you sniffle.

“oh my god.” he is such a jackass. “don't cry. i'm sorry, sweetheart. it's okay. jesus.”

“i just don't want you to go,” you squeak. your hands fist the steering wheel tight, knuckles turning white.

leon leans over the center console, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. he shrugs you closer to him, hushing you gently.

"let's plan another trip, okay?" he murmurs against your head, placing apologetic kisses there over and over. "c'mon. it's not forever. it's okay. i'm gonna call you when i land. we'll text, like we always do. it's my turn to pick the movie, so-"

fuck. his voice cracks. he clears his throat, blinks quickly to keep his composure.

"so, i'll pick a good one. wednesday night, okay? you, me, and a really good movie."

steadily, his promises slow your tears. the pressure of time detaches you from his hold. you're with him as far as you can go, waving him off to his gate. his heart sinks like a stone. he hates flights, never gets comfortable on them, but the way home feels longer than usual.

made it home he texts the second he's through the door. you're probably asleep. he hopes you are, at least. it's late for you, and--

yay

before he can bother telling you to go to bed, another message pushes through. his house felt empty before, but your message only deepens the feeling, hollows out the hallways and leaves his bed feeling too big, too cold.

i miss you already. call me tomorrow if you can.

leon squints at the screen.

"is that my shirt?"

you stop mid-sentence. caught red-handed - or, rather, grey-shirted.

it's your movie night since he made it back home. you're curled up in bed, your popcorn off to the side. he can fill in the gaps of your room now, knows what extends beyond the screen - and he knows that shirt. an old work tee of his that had mysteriously gone missing after you did the laundry. well-worn and soft. his name stamped on the back in big, block letters. possessive pride stirs in his chest to imagine you wearing his name.

sheepish, you promise, "i'll bring it back to you. how about next month?"

leon shakes his head. he pulls open his calendar, skimming through the busy weeks to clear the time for you.

"keep it. wear it to the airport for me so i know who to look for."

"you're not gonna make me a sign?"

"the shirt is the sign, sweetheart."

"are you gonna wear a matching one with my name on it?"

"i might." he opens another tab, googling how to make custom t-shirts. "you'll have to get here and find out."

connection restored -`♡´-

dividers from @/adornedwithlight

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x you #resident evil fluff #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil fanfic #resident evil x reader #sorry for doubling the word count of part 1 i daydreamed a little too hard.

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ponderingmoonlight · 2 months ago

Text

Your Arranged Marriage Series

Part 1: Gojo Satoru

Word Count: 4,1k (lmao)

Synopsis: You've been promised to Gojo Satoru since you've took your first breath. But even though your paths a intertwined with each other, he treats you like a shadow that follows him through his life. Until you've having enough. Until your on the brink of losing your life during a mission.

Warnings: The beginning is full of hurt so be prepared, the reader is rather quiet and a little shy in this one, huge fluff bomb in the end of this, not 100% proofread bc I NEEDED to publish this. Please let me know if you'd want me to make this a series and comment who needs to get a part in my arranged marriage series next 🤍

There wasn’t a day in your life when you weren’t promised to Gojo Satoru. No, not even a single second. As soon as you opened your eyes exactly one hour apart from the honoured one, you were promised to him for eternity. You, an ordinary girl from an average sorcerer family, married into the wealthy Gojo clan.

What a lucky girl you are.

“Watch your step, dumbass.”

Truly lucky.

“Sorry”, you mutter more to yourself than the white-haired boy who just crashed into your shoulder roughly.

Truth is, Satoru and you never got along well. Was it the pressure from both your parents, the tension that filled the air whenever you entered the same room? The unspoken promise your parents gave, the fact that you’ll have to carry his children rather sooner than later.

After all, this is what all of this mess is about. You were chosen because Satoru Gojo is forced to guarantee the next bloodline of successful sorcerers, to bring up another honoured one. Why you?

“The fact that you were born on the same day was a sign of heaven. It was meant to be. It was fate.”

Or rather a stupid coincidence, how you like to call it.

A stupid coincidence that chained you to a boy who looks at you with so much disgust in his gaze that you can’t help but feel that numb throbbing in your chest whenever he walks by.

It’s not like you care about his opinion. To be honest, you don’t know a lot about the honoured one who carefully avoids you like the plague. But maybe the fact that he doesn’t even know you and still decides to hate you to the brim is even more hurtful than that.

“Don’t think too much of it. He had a rough day, (y/n).”

You give the black-haired boy in front of you a small smile. Unlike Gojo, Suguru always makes sure to check on you. When Gojo is out for yet another mission, the two of you share your lunchbreaks with each other while talking about everything and everyone. Unlike your fiancé, Suguru really seems to enjoy your company.

“How was your mission? I heard it was pretty rough”, he continues, guiding you to a bench nearby and sitting down next to you.

“It was. A lot of people had to die because of nothing. I wasn’t able to save them all…”, you mutter.

Will you ever hold a candle against the great Satoru Gojo? In comparison to him, you always felt like a dim light in the wind. One wrong movement, one challenging mission and you’re gone.

“Even a special grade sorcerer can’t save everyone. Even Satoru has to deal with losses from time to time, you know?”

“Why are you wasting your time talking to trash again, Suguru?”

You follow his all too familiar voice until your gaze reaches his ice-cold glare. When was the last time he smiled at you? Maybe he never did in the first place.

“Please, it’s okay Suguru. Don’t start-“

“You’d know that’s not true if you’d actually talk to (y/n)”, Suguru replies dryly while positioning himself in front of you.

Oh no, you desperately tried avoiding situations like those. If there’s one think Gojo can’t let slide, it’s being provoked. And if there’s one thing you can’t stand, it’s confrontation.

Gojo’s smirk twists into something colder, his gaze shifting briefly to you before settling back on Suguru. You can feel your guts turn in an instant, mind already preparing for whatever he’ll throw at you next.

"Oh, is that what you think, Suguru?" he sneers.

"If you knew the whole story, you’d know she’s only here because her parents practically sold her off. Guess they figured a rich fiancé would solve all their little problems."

Your parents, selling you off? You swallow hard, desperately trying to get rid of that tight knot that starts building up in your throat almost immediately. Is that all he sees in you? He, the man who’s supposed to spend his whole life with you? Him, who ruined every minor chance you had on a romantic relationship? It’s not only his life that got turned upside down by that stupid bond both your parents made years ago.

Suguru’s expression hardens, his jaw clenched as he stands firmly between you and Gojo.

"That’s low, even for you, Satoru.”

Something inside you snaps. The quiet, bothering frustration you've carried for so long starts to boil over.

Before you can think it through, you step forward, your voice steadier than you feel.

"Is that really all you think of me, Gojo?"

The words surprise even you, but you push on, meeting his cold gaze.

"Do you really believe I wanted any of this?"

Your voice is tight but clear, every word sharpened by the years you've kept silent.

"You think I asked to be engaged to someone who looks at me like I'm some burden? As if I had any more choice in this than you did?"

Gojo's smirk falters slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, but he quickly schools his expression.

But you don’t back down. Not when those words are finally flying off your tightened chest.

"It’s not only your life that got flipped upside down by this arrangement. I’ve tried to make the best of it, tried to make it work, but I can't do that if you’re determined to see me as nothing but a... a gold digger, a burden, a disease."

You take a shaky breath, feeling the knot in your throat loosen as you finally speak your truth.

Suguru glances back at you, his expression softening with something close to pride. Gojo, for once, stays silent, his gaze unreadable as he looks at you.

Did you really talk to him? You, who usually didn’t even dare to meet his gaze, who never talked to him again after he made fun of you in front of the entire school? You, who never voiced her opinion, who never dared to raised her voice? You always played along, always lived right by his side without a single word of protest. And now you’re standing in front of him, your rapid breaths hanging in the air, your beautiful face twisted in a mix of unreadable feelings.

“I never asked for this engagement. All I ever did was getting born into this word”, you croak out, voice breaking mid-sentence.

God, you have to look pathetic right now with tears filling your eyes to the brim and fists shaking. How did someone like you end up being the fiancé of none other than Gojo Satoru? He needs someone feisty, someone who can stand up to him, whose confidence overpowers his humor. Is was the worst match right from the start, doomed to failure.

But how are you supposed to live with this outlook? What about the happy future you imagined way too often before drifting off to sleep, the caring and loving husband you always wished for? All those looks at boys you never risked because of him while he was out there drooling after other girls. How are you supposed to be okay with the stinging fact that your future husband feels nothing but disgust for you?

“But you know what’s the worst? You never even gave me a chance, never allowed me to get to know you. We’re strangers because you decided we’ll be. And you hate me even though you don’t even know my favourite color.”

You need to get out of here right now. Out of this way too constricting hallway, away from him and his judging glare while tears stream down your face like a waterfall. You never asked for this puny life in the shadow of Satoru Gojo, waiting for the day he is forced to marry and sleep with you.

You never wanted this.

“Suguru”, Satoru speaks up after what feels like an eternity.

“Can you tell me what’s her favorite color?”

-a few weeks later-

His eyes scan the lonely hallway you usually hide yourself in automatically, desperately searching for any sign of you.

Satoru hasn’t seen you since that day. And to be honest, he felt like a jerk ever since. Your words cut through his heart like a hot knife, the agony in your voice still echoing through his mind. You don’t deserve the pain he caused you. Fuck, he never even deserved you in the first place.

You in that sundress, sitting in the down-going sun while reading all those books he’d never understand. You with your cursed technique that would beat him by miles if it wasn’t for his six eyes. You with your calm and collected demeanour that made every single of your classmates here at jujutsu high fall hard for you.

Truth is, Satoru Gojo never had the courage to approach you. Not after treating you so horribly when you were kids, not when he was never the man you’d deserve. What if you’d reject him, what if your heart belongs to someone else?

“I’m a coward”, Gojo groans while letting himself fall tragically against a nearby wall.

“Can’t argue with that. Are you really telling me you treated her like shit because you didn’t wanna marry her back when both of you were kids?”, Suguru comments dryly.

“Stop judging me Suguru, you’re supposed to be my mental support!”

“Not when you’re acting like the biggest douchebag walking on earth. What the hell were you thinking?”

Gojo lets out a long sigh, dragging a hand through his hair in frustration.

"You don’t get it, Suguru," he mutters, staring down at his feet. "

It wasn’t that I didn’t want to marry her, or that I thought she wasn’t good enough or something. It’s just… I never had a choice. Neither of us did."

Suguru crosses his arms, his expression unimpressed.

"And that justifies you treating her like garbage? You realize how pathetic that sounds, right?"

Gojo winces, the truth hitting harder than he'd like to admit.

"Yeah, I know. But back then... all I could see was that my whole life had been decided for me. My parents barely even asked if I wanted it. They just assumed it was best for the clan, for me, whatever."

"So, what? You took it out on her?"

“I know it sounds stupid, but I felt... trapped. And she was part of that trap. Every time I saw her, it just reminded me of everything I couldn’t choose for myself. I thought if I pushed her away, maybe it’d hurt less. Maybe I’d feel like I was in control."

Suguru shakes his head, a mixture of sympathy and disbelief in his eyes.

"So instead of talking to her, you just became the one thing she’d never want in a partner?"

Gojo leans back against the wall, staring blankly at the ceiling.

"Yeah, genius move, right? I thought I could make her hate me, so she'd never have to be tied down to some jerk who couldn’t get over himself. But instead... I just made her hate me for real."

Suguru’s silence says more than any scolding could, and Gojo closes his eyes, feeling the weight of his own choices settle heavily on him.

“Truth is, I secretly looked out for her when I had the chance. I even listened to some of your conversations from time to time.”

“That’s pathetic, man. She’s literally your fiancé-“

“I GET IT OKAY.”

Gojo signs to himself while rubbing his eyes over and over again.

“I fucked up, okay? I need to talk to her.”

“Good idea after more than 16 years of ignoring her”, Suguru comments dryly.

-on the battlefield-

You can’t catch your breath, your own blood taking your sight almost completely. This was supposed to be an easy mission for a special grade sorcerer. Go in, get the artefact, save the people and leave. You’ve done that 100 times already.

But today?

You cough up the bitter taste of iron, crimson now covering your shaky hands.

Today you’re closer to dying than you’ve ever been before.

Over and over, again and again you get smashed into nearby building. What are you supposed to do? Who should you call?

Satoru?

Your heart tightens in an instant. Would he be sad if you die right here and now? Probably not. After all that would mean that he’s free, that he’s able to live his life unchained with a girl he can choose himself.

Lucky Gojo.

Your eyes dart towards the frightening creature that starts building itself up in font of your eyes again. You were able to evacuate all the innocent people out of this curtain along with the artefact this thing guarded. You did your job, right?

It wouldn’t be a shame if you die right here and now…right?

Another wave of venom darts towards you at neck breaking speed. Oh, your body feels so tired, your muscles sore from the countless times you tried to escape that monster already, your bones and joints begging you for a break.

A break would be okay, right? Giving up right here and now doesn’t hurt anyone…right?

You allow your eyes to flutter shut, your body to sink to the ground. Only a few seconds and it will be over. You did what you could, fought until the very end. Maybe Gojo or Suguru will be able to defeat this curse.

“(y/n), what the hell are you doing? Get out of the way?”

It happens faster than your eyes nap back open again. From one millisecond to the other, you find yourself devoured in Gojo Satoru’s arms while dashing through the bloody red sky.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind, (y/n)!? You could have died right there on the spot!”, he screams on top of his lungs, eyes glowing in a dreadful blue you’ve never seen before.

“I-…I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? You could be dead by now, nothing but a puddle of blood. You…are you insane!?”

“I finished my mission. That’s all that counts”, you reply automatically.

Oh, how much you hate that familiar sting of tears in your eyes, the way your throat starts aching all over again.

“You have to be fucking kidding me…Finished your mission!? What was your mission, killing yourself!?”

“Why do you even care?”, you suddenly cry out just as loud as him.

“It’s not like you give a damn about me!”

Your words hit him like a bullet straight to his heart. How much he hates to admit that you’re right, that he can’t blame you for feeling this way. After all, it was him who treated you like trash for your whole life, who pretended to not give a damn about you. From your point of view, there really is no reason for him to care.

Gojo stares at you, his breath ragged, his usual composure shattered as he hovers in the air with you cradled securely in his arms. For a moment, he can’t speak, his mind racing with everything he’s hidden, all the words he’s swallowed over the years. Finally, his eyes soften, and he looks at you with something so raw that it makes your heart ache.

“Why do I care?” he repeats, his voice quieter now, almost vulnerable.

“Because I’ve been an idiot, (y/n). A complete fool. I thought… I thought if I just kept my distance, if I acted like I didn’t care, maybe it would hurt less when I knew you’d never choose to be with someone like me.”

Your eyes widen, every ounce of bitterness and confusion momentarily fading as you take in his words. Is that really Gojo Satoru talking to you? The boy who ignored you since birth? Your fiancé who made it more than clear that he’ll never like you?

“You… what?”

He lets out a shaky laugh, looking away for a second as he tries to collect himself.

“I know it sounds crazy. I thought pushing you away would make it easier - for both of us. I thought if I made you hate me, then maybe you wouldn’t feel as trapped by this whole… engagement thing. I didn’t want you to think you were stuck with me.”

You blink, trying to wrap your mind around his words.

“So… all of this, the coldness, the insults… it was all to push me away?”

Gojo nods, his jaw clenched.

"Yeah. I wanted you to feel free. Free to be with whoever you wanted. Even if that meant I’d be out of the picture. I thought it would be better for you if I was the last person you’d ever want. And honestly, that whole marriage thing scared the crap out of me since I understood what it means…"

Your heart aches at the confession, and despite everything, you feel yourself softening. Softening for a little boy who was chained onto a woman he didn’t even know, a boy who didn’t even think about girls back then.

“But Satoru… that just hurt me even more. I thought you couldn’t stand me. All these years, you made it clear for everyone to see.”

He closes his eyes, guilt clear on his face.

“I know. I realize now how much I messed up. But I didn’t know how else to keep myself from… from caring too much. From wanting more than I should, more than I can afford.”

He opens his eyes, and there’s a depth in his gaze that makes your breath catch.

“Because the truth is, (y/n), I do care. I’ve always cared. Way more than I ever wanted to admit.”

You stare at him, heart pounding as his words sink in.

"Satoru… why didn’t you just tell me? Why didn’t we just talk this through?"

“Because I didn’t think I was what you deserved,” he admits, voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re kind, patient, brilliant… and me? I’m reckless, arrogant, and stubborn. I figured if I stayed away, maybe you’d find someone better.”

He sighs, looking down with a faint, almost self-deprecating smile.

"But even then, I couldn’t stay away, could I? The moment I thought you were in danger, I-" He trails off, shaking his head.

"I would’ve torn that curse apart with my bare hands if it meant keeping you safe."

You swallow, unable to keep the tears from welling up as you finally see the truth he’s tried to hide for so long.

“All this time, I thought… I thought you hated me.”

Gojo’s gaze softens, and he gently wipes a tear from your cheek with the pad of his thumb.

“I was an idiot,” he murmurs, his voice breaking a little.

“I was so wrapped up in my own fears that I hurt the one person I actually wanted to be close to. And I’m so, so sorry, (y/n). I’ve been a fool. You deserved so much better than how I treated you.”

He pauses, and there’s a softness in his eyes that you’ve never seen before, like he’s finally allowing himself to be vulnerable with you.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he says, voice thick with emotion.

“But I need you to know… I don’t want to keep pretending anymore. I don’t want to keep pushing you away. I just want… I just want to be by your side, if you’ll let me.”

A warmth spreads through you, his words slowly melting the hurt he caused. Despite everything, you feel something rekindling between you, a glimmer of hope that maybe things could be different. And maybe, just maybe, Gojo Satoru will be a good friend in the future.

“You’ve been a fool, Satoru. And honestly, I can’t forgive you more than 16 years of constant pain over a few words. You…You need to prove it.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, smiling a little as he looks at you with a fondness he no longer bothers to hide.

“I can finally start making up for it.”

-12 years later-

The training field buzzes with the usual sounds of Jujutsu High’s students sparring and practicing, but today, there’s an extra spark of excitement in the air. Rumors had spread that Gojo’s wife, the famous sorcerer he’d somehow managed to marry, was stopping by for a visit.

Nobara, and Yuji exchange glances, all curious and maybe a little nervous. After all, they’d seen Gojo in action before: cold, powerful, a little too confident for his own good. What kind of person could possibly keep up with him? They wait, watching the gates eagerly, until finally, a familiar figure strides onto the training field, radiating warmth and energy.

“Can y’all stop acting so ridiculous? It’s only (y/n)”, Megumi murmurs in sheer confusion.

“Only the (y/n)!?”, Nobara shrieks.

“Watch your mouth, sea urchin!”, Gojo replies so frustrated that Megumi can’t help but roll his eyes.

What is he fussing about? It’s not like he sees you every single day. As his wife, you’re basically always around if it isn’t for a mission.

“(Y/N)!” Gojo shouts, waving both arms in the air like an excited kid when finally seeing you walk through the gate.

His grin is wide, almost blinding, and it only grows wider as he rushes toward you. You can’t help but laugh, stepping into his embrace as he pulls you close.

“Right on time, huh?” you tease, letting the affection seep into your tone as you look up at him, the playful glint in your eyes unmistakable.

“Of course! How could I not be excited when my beautiful wife is here?” he responds, pulling back just enough to meet your gaze, a mix of adoration and mischief in his eyes.

Nobara leans in closer to Yuji, whispering,

“Is he always like this?”

Yuji nods enthusiastically, grinning.

“Yep! He’s totally whipped!”

Megumi rolls his eyes, but even he can’t hide the hint of a smile at his friend’s antics.

“I can’t believe he used to treat her like trash,” he mutters, crossing his arms.

“HE WHAT!?”

You catch that last bit and can’t help but smirk, turning back to Gojo.

“Remember when you thought being a jerk was the way to go because our marriage was arranged? And now you’re treating me like a princess in front of your students? I’d love to show that mini Satoru.”

Gojo feigns innocence, placing a hand dramatically over his heart.

“I was just preparing you for the royal treatment! Didn’t want to spoil you too much right away.”

You shake your head, chuckling as you poke him in the side.

“Oh, please. You had a lot of catching up to do after your earlier mistakes.”

“Hey! I was young and foolish! I’ve learned since then!” he retorts, laughter dancing in his eyes while he pulls you even closer towards him.

“And now I’m the luckiest guy in the world!”

“You’ve always been the luckiest guy in the world with (y/n) being promised to you”, Megumi comments dryly.

The students watch the playful banter, caught somewhere between awe and amusement as you continue to tease Gojo about his past shitty behaviour, his eyes never leaving your mesmerizing gaze.

“Just remember, Satoru,” you say, leaning in conspiratorially, “you’ll never live down how badly you treated me. I’ll be sure to remind you every chance I get until the day you die.”

Gojo laughs, his blue eyes sparkling with joy and affection.

“Bring it on, I’ll just keep proving to you how much you mean to me!”

And with that, he presses his lips against yours. Longingly, with that passion that sweeps you off your feet over and over again. Just a few years ago, you didn’t even allow yourself of thinking about kissing that man, let alone lying in his arms for something apart from fighting. He’s not only your husband, but he loves you. Gojo Satoru adores you with all his heart and you simply can’t get enough of this, enough of him.

“Gosh, that’s kinda gross”, Nobara mutters under her breath.

“Watch out young lady. Who knows if you’ll get married to your pink-haired friend here sooner or later? Arranged marriages are common in the jujutsu sorcerer society. Trust me, been there, done that-”

“ME AND THAT GUY!? NEVER!”

“Hey, there’s no need to sound so disgusted. I’m sure I’ll be a great husband…”

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